Listen, son. You and I are professionals. If the manager says sacrifice, we lay down a bunt and let somebody else hit the homeruns.

Listen, sister. I don't dance and I can't take time out now to learn.

You know what I'm talking about. This business has changed. Flyers aren't pilots anymore, they're engineers. This is a college man's game. Our work is done. The pioneering is over.

Intelligence alone is not nearly enough when it comes to acting wisely.

You think being dead inside is bad until someone brings you back to life and stabs you in the chest without the intention of killing you.

In silence there is a perfection which any toil injures.

Short stories consume you faster. They're connected to brevity. With the short story, you are up against mortality. I know how tough they are as a form, but they're also a total joy.

I am certain that I never did grow in grace one-half so much anywhere as I have upon the bed of pain.

It's 2014, and adults are still writing articles about whether other adults should read comic books or not.

Every team that I've gone to has had trouble winning games. I guess that's what I've been put on this earth to do, to fix it.

I cannot write any sort of story unless there is at least one character in it for whom I have physical desire.

Every day I push myself to redefine the limits of our sport