The seeker embarks on a journey to find what he wants and discovers, along the way, what he needs.

Life is a whoopee cushion, a chair pulled away just as you were taking a seat.

All the dead bolts, pulled shades and hidden knives in the world couldn't protect you from the truth.

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

I like to write first-person because I like to become the character I'm writing.

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.

Connecticut is in my blood.