“Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.”

Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.

The road to hell is paved with adverbs.

When all else fails, give up and go to the library.

It’s hard to let go. Even when what you’re holding onto is full of thorns, it’s hard to let go. Maybe especially then.

When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction.

Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.

Let me tell you something my friend. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane.

Love, the simplest, strongest, and most unforgiving of all emotions.

Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.

We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why. Not until the future eats the present, anyway. We know when it’s too late.

Alone. Yes, that’s the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

If a fear cannot be articulated, it can’t be conquered.

The world had teeth and it could bite you with them anytime it wanted.

In the year 2025, the best men don’t run for president, they run for their lives.

Books are the perfect entertainment: no commercials, no batteries, hours of enjoyment for each dollar spent. What I wonder is why everybody doesn’t carry a book around for those inevitable dead spots in life.

It was life, often unsatisfying, frequently cruel, usually boring, sometimes beautiful, once in a while exhilarating.