If you sweep a house, and tend its fires and fill its stove, and there is love in you all the years you are doing this, then you and that house are married, that house is yours.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.

Have you never heard what the wise men say: all of the future exists in the past.

Half the people who snuff people, that's what they want: recognition. Get their picture in the paper.

No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.

Good writing is rewriting.

I'm sure Proust was a big bore.