Human behavior in the midst of hardship caught my attention very early on, and my first stories were all pictures, no words.

If you want your prayers answered, get up off your knees and do something about them.

Fiction writing is a strange business when you think about it. You sit down and weave a network of lies to explore deeper truths.

My soul was a burden, bruised and bleeding. It was tired of the man who carried it, but I found no place to set it down to rest. Neither the charm of the countryside nor the sweet scents of a garden could soothe it. It found no peace in song or laughter, none in the company of friends at table or in the pleasures of love, none even in books or poetry.... Where could my heart find refuge from itself? Where could I go, yet leave myself behind?

Connecticut is in my blood.

I cried because I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no feet.

Eastern Connecticut is very different from Western; we're more liverwurst than pâté, more bowling than polo.