He Might Be A Man Without Character,

I Hate Nature. I Really Do. Nature Is Composed Entirely Of Sticks, Dirt, Fall-down Places, Biting And Stinging Things, And Savageries Too Numerous To List. And I'm Not The Only One Who Feels This Way. Man Has Been Building Cities Since The Year Oughty-ought, Just To Get Away From This Stuff.

I Figure Guys Are Like Whitman's Samplers. I Like To Take A Little Bite Out Of Each And Then Move On Before The Whole Box Gets Stale.

Ghosts Don't Haunt Us. That's Not How It Works. They're Present Among Us Because We Won't Let Go Of Them." "i Don't Believe In Ghosts," I Said, Faintly. "some People Can't See The Color Red. That Doesn't Mean It Isn't There," She Replied.

Writing Is Not About Making A Buck, Not About Publishers And Agents. Writing Is Not About Feeling Good. Writing Is About Pain, Suffering, Hard Work, Risk, And Fear.

My Second Husband And I Were Going Through A Bitter Divorce, And I Didn't Have The Money For A Fancy-pants Attorney. I Didn't Know How To Fight, So I'd Lie Awake At Night And Think Of Ways To Kill Him. But I Knew I'd Get Caught, So I Decided To Put It In A Book And Get Paid For It! I Always Think It's Odd That A Whole Career Came Out Of That Homicidal Impulse.