I suppose all writers worry about the well running dry.

At the risk of appearing disingenuous, I don't really think of myself as 'writing humor.' I'm simply reporting on the world I observe, which is frequently hilarious.

And there comes a time in your life when you realize that if you don't take the opportunity to be happy, you may never get another chance again.

People sometimes get in the habit of being loyal to a mistake.

You use simple brushstrokes in a screenplay for things over which you would take much greater pains in a novel.

Have you ever noticed that when people use the expression 'I have to say', what follows usually needn't be said?

What if all everybody needed in the world was to be sure of one friend? What if you were the one, and you refused to say those simple words?

My books are elegiac in the sense that they're odes to a nation that even I sometimes think may not exist anymore except in my memory and my imagination.

Worse, I have to admit to feeling the jealousy of one crab for another that has managed to climb out of the barrel.

Bookstores, like libraries, are the physical manifestation of the wide world's longest, most thrilling conversation.

I was the one who did come through that door. You were the one she was waiting for.

Capability is just a concept of what is it we're looking at. Now how far we can go along that and what new capabilities become possible is something we have to judge.

Sometimes a little near death experience helps them put things into perspective.

Without freedom there can be no morality.

You should see his older brother,” said Jem. “Makes Gabriel look sweeter than gingerbread. Hates Will even more thanGabriel, too, if that’s possible.

What is it that brings on these moods of yours? Nothing mysterious: the ordinary pain of being alive.

do you think it is better to be clever than to be good?” “Good for what?” asked the Doctor. “You are good for nothing unless you are clever.

We cannot lower the mountain, therefore we must elevate ourselves.

He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams.

Study is the bane of childhood, the oil of youth, the indulgence of adulthood, and a restorative in old age.

The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!