There are things that can harm a lot more than physically.

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

I love animals, always have, and it seemed natural to help the ASPCA. Animals have no voice of their own, so we have to be that voice

I am not a morning person.

I always treated writing as a profession, never as a hobby. If you don't believe in yourself, no one else will.

Remember your personal demons should be afraid of you, because you are their home, their food, and as you heal, their executioner.

You'd think a sociopath assassin wouldn't have a fan following but he does

Zebrowski says that if you killed someone else just hide the body, he's not starting over on the paperwork.

Never trust people who smile constantly. They're either selling something or not very bright.

My writing style is very sensual, as in sensory detail

The best lies are always at least partially true.

What happened to you? When did you stop believing in yourself? In your gift? In what you deserve?

Ours is the commencement of a flying age, and I am happy to have popped into existence at a period so interesting.

Because here is the truth: If you want to have a chance at meeting somebody with whom you are genuinely compatible, never put your best foot forward.

Other than that and the fact that I don't have to work any more my life hasn't changed a bit.

I express many absurd opinions. But I am not the first man to do it; American freedom consists largely in talking nonsense.

I'm not a rock and roller, a hitmaker. I'm highly dependent on what's coming out of these vocal cords.

I never really liked poetry readings; I liked to read poetry by myself, but I liked singing, chanting my lyrics to this jazz group.

I'm a white guy listening to the Cure and thinking about Pynchon influences.

At some point in life's journey, professionally and personally, we have to be able to trust our preparation.

It is not the passion of a mind struggling with misfortune, or the hopelessness of its desires, but of a mind preying on itself, and disgusted with, or indifferent to all other things.