A novelist has to know enough about a subject to fool the passenger next to him on an airplane.

Worship your body, beauty, and sexual allure and you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you.

[I]f the writer does his job right, what he basically does is remind the reader of how smart the reader is.

Be on guard. The road widens, and many of the detours are seductive.

What I know about auto racing could be inscribed with a dry Magic Marker on the lip of a Coke bottle.

Your personal will is the web your disease sits and spins in. The will you call your own ceased to be yours as of who knows how many Substance-drenched years ago.