I've Certainly Seen Stats That

I Tend To Be So Lost In The Work That I Don't Notice The Weather. My Partner Will Come Home And Say, 'beautiful Day, Wasn't It?' And I'll Say, 'was It?' As I Won't Have Noticed The Real World At All.

I Think It Would Be A Shame For Any Writer To Let Their Publishers In Any Way Corral Them Into A Single Genre.

I Think Sometimes The Way To Preserve The Magic Of A Book Is To Throw It Away - Meaning, Not To Cling To The Way A Book Does Its Magic But To Find A Cinematic Equivalent.

Sometimes You Must Shed Your Skin To Save It.

We're Standing On The Deck That's All Wooden Like The Deck Of A Ship. There's Fuzz On It, Little Bundles. Grandma Says It's Some Kind Of Pollen From A Tree. "which One?" I'm Staring Up At All The Differents. "can't Help You There, I'm Afraid." In Room We Knowed What Everything Was Called But In The World There's So Much, Persons Don't Even Know The Names.