Later, going home, I realized they didn't look alike at all; what made them seem to was the aftermath of stress and the lingering of sorrow. It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family.

I'm seen as somebody who writes for adults because I'm an older man myself. Some of them find me, and a lot of them don't.

I started writing seriously when I was about 12. I am always in the mood.

Roland could not understand why anyone would want cocaine or any other illegal drug, for that matter, in a world where such a powerful one as sugar was so plentiful and cheap.

Stories are artifacts, not really made things which we create and can take credit for, but pre-existing objects which we dig up.

But this wealth of information produced little or no insight.

The wife whose sweetly given reply in the face of any problem would be, "Whatever you think is best, dear." Women, take note: a wife like that never needs to fear bubbling away the last of her life through a cut throat.