Life may be miraculous in its unlikelihood in the universe, but it would be a fallacy to suggest that its rareness makes it inextinguishable.

Generally speaking, I think it is fair to say that I am a friend to the creatures of the Earth when I am not busy eating them or wearing them.

A stopped clock is correct twice a day, but a sundial can be used to stab someone, even at nighttime.

Specificity is the soul of narrative.

I am not beautiful, so I don't know why I'm making myself ugly. But the mustache stays.

All I can ask from society is that it please stop telling me why I should like sports.

I actually own a copy of my own book; that's how dedicated I am as an author.

There is no ritual that enhances creativity other than just starting.

My career as a magazine writer was largely prefaced on the idea of curiosity, to go on adventures and weasel my way into the lives of people that I admire.

A literary agent is nothing but a cheap salesman (or woman); while a writer is a cheap salesman (or woman) who also has to actually write the books.

The villain of any story is often the most compelling character.

A biblical woman embraces God's callings, chooses wisely, lives courageously, and expects God's greater reward.

What an ambiance, and such a pity I'm alone: Candles giving off their glow, gusts of wind and the light tapping of rain on the windowpane - a massage for the mind. And a comforting one, too.

What was it Isak Dinesen had said about salt as a cure? Tears, sweat, or the sea. She could use a cure.

Happiness is a sad song.

Genius can do much, but even genius falls short of the actuality of a single human life.

People will never set their faces decidedly towards heaven, and live like pilgrims, until they really feel that they are in danger of hell.

Most of the faint intimations of immortality of which we are occasionally aware would seem to arise out of Art or the materials of Art.

I definitely learned to embrace the quiet moments onstage from Garry Shandling - relaxing and not fighting with the crowd, not raising your voice, not ever trying to win them over.

When I write, I tend to twist my hair. Something for my small mind to do, I guess.

Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, With eyes of gold and bramble-dew, Steel-true and blade-straight, The great artificer made my mate.