The highest praise a writer can give another is to say he wishes he had written his book. I wish I had written Forty Words for Sorrow. Giles Blunt has a tremendous talent. If you miss Forty Words for Sorrow, you'll miss one of best novels of 2001.

From where we stand the rain seems random. If we could stand somewhere else, we would see the order in it.

I am 82 years old. I imagine that I will keep on writing as long as anyone wants to keep reading.

I try to make my books reflect humanity as I see it.

Thoughts, and words that spring from them, bend the individual's reality. To speak of death is to invite it. To think of sorrow is to produce it.

I know what I write about seems exotic to a lot of people, but not for me. I pulled up to an old trading post and saw a few elderly Navajos sitting on a bench. I felt right at home.

How can you stop writing?