I am not a smart man, particularly, but one day, at long last, I stumbled from the dark woods of my own, and my family's, and my country's past, holding in my hands these truths: that love grows from the rich loam of forgiveness; that mongrels make good dogs; that the evidence of God exists in the roundness of things. This much, at least, I've figured out. I know this much is true.

The evidence of God exists in the roundness of things.

I love revising. If you demystify the process, it comes down to four strategies: what can I do to make the draft better; what should I cut out to make it stronger; what do I need to do to clarify it; and finally, what should I reposition.

If the book is true, it will find an audience that is meant to read it.

But what are our stories if not the mirrors we hold up to our fears?

As my early drawings warned me, where humans go, lions and tidal waves follow.

Connecticut is in my blood.