You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own.

The main thing I wanted to say, and thankfully it’s what most people say they get out of the book, is simply an acknowledgement that we do affect each other in ways we can’t predict.

No one knows for certain how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same.

You can hear rumors. But you can't know them.

You can't stop the future You can't rewind the past The only way to learn the secret ...is to press play.

I've always loved brainstorming with other writers, and I consider having my work critiqued a part of that brainstorming.

And at some point, the struggle becomes too much-too tiring-and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.

You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have is...now.

Everything...affects everything

After all, how often do we get a second chance?

In the end....everything matters.

...mastery of the emotions is fundamental to a virtuous life.

I think one of the hardest things about doing a book in the first person is that to a certain extent each day, when you begin to do your work, you're climbing into somebody else's skin.

If you can just actually let the character be for a bit, then you get the right sense.

... some day you will have to give an account for every penny you spent.

The better you get at your key skills, the more you accomplish in a shorter period of time.

Everybody is great really and has got to be great.

No one ever heard of the truth being enforced by law. When the secular is called in to sustain an idea, whether new or old, it is always a bad idea, and not infrequently it is downright idiotic.

Looking back on those games, I probably hustled out of position as much as I hustled into position since I really never had any real training. I was working on instincts alone.

I've been an athlete that's sort of in advance; always thinking. After basketball I'd love to have my own radio show, my own TV show.

"You’re different,” he said, touching my face. Of course I was. The man I loved had killed for me. A lot of things became inconsequential after a sacrifice like that.