Sometimes you do things you regret, but there's nothing you can do about them. Times change. Doors close behind you. You move on.

People talk about books that write themselves, and it's a lie. Books don't write themselves. It takes thought and research and backache and notes and more time and more work than you'd believe.

The irritating question they ask us -- us being writers -- is: "Where do you get your ideas?"

The irritating question they ask us -- us being writers -- is: "Where do you get your i

Perhaps it is true that all that happens is in accordance with Your will, and thus it is good. But sometimes You leave blood on Your instruments.

As we write we summon little demons.

Wherever it is you make your home, there is always this other place, this other person, calling to you. Come to me. Come back.

This book is so interesting. I always wonder what's going to happen next.

Consider yourself warned, Frankie. Something about these mountains convinces previously sane women to give up Starbucks for saddle sores.

Dream, believe, work hard and succeed.

Always be prepared; always work hard and take pride in your work no matter what it is. I still follow that advice and have already tried to pass it on to my children. They, of course, ignored me.

One must never be satisfied with his ability to love. No matter where he is, it is always just a beginning.

In high school I was best in music class on the trumpet, but the prizes went to the boys with blue eyes. I made up my mind to outdo anybody white on my horn.

Man, like the universe, is a machine. Nothing enters our minds or determines our actions which is not directly or indirectly a response to stimuli beating upon our sense organs from without.

Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second.

I not only bow to the inevitable; I am fortified by it.