I like to get ten pages a day, which amounts to 2,000 words. That’s 180,000 words over a three-month span, a goodish length for a book — something in which the reader can get happily lost, if the tale is done well and stays fresh.

Sometimes [...] real love is silent as well as blind.

The last good time always comes, and when you see the darkness creeping toward you, you hold on to what was bright and good. You hold on for dear life.

Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world.

Hemingway sucks. If I set out to write that way, it would have been been hollow and lifeless because it wasn't me.

Human Nature Baby, grab it and growl.

You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or despair ... Come to it any way but lightly.