He Had A Thousand-year-old Stare.

I Was The Sort Of Kid Who Spent A Sunday Afternoon Prying Little Trees Out Of The Foundation Of His Parents' House. I Should Have Given In To The Inevitable Truth That This Was The Sort Of Person I Would Become, In The End, But I Kept Fighting It.

Time Is The Water In Which We Live, And We Breathe It Like Fish. ... Time Pours Into Us And Then Pours Out Again. In Between The Two Pourings We Live Our Destiny.

Can You Stop Your Mother From Singing To You? Who Would Do Such A Thing?

It Didn't Occur To Me That My Books Would Be Widely Read At All, And That Enabled Me To Write Anything I Wanted To. And Even Once I Realized That They Were Being Read, I Still Wrote As If I Were Writing In Secret. That's How One Has To Write Anyway--in Secret.

Right And Wrong Were Shades Of Meaning, Not Sides Of A Coin.