Occupation: Novelist Birth: 1959
That mirror, that's one I hate to let go, he said. That was my daughter's the whole time she was growing up. It probably seen her more than me--every….
Life was a swarm of accidents waiting in the treetops, descending upon any living thing that passed, ready to eat them alive. You swam in a river of ….
That was how it was, sometimes. You put yourself in front of the thing and waited for whatever was going to happen and that was all. It scared you an….
It is as true for the writer as for the reader that any novel worth its ink should be an experience first and foremost—not an essay, not a statement,….
In that dilated moment after sunset when the sky holds all the light..
Nothing is going to happen to me, or you, for that matter. Anything can happen, though. Anything can happen. But most always, just normal things happ….
No one can say if you are that person who, given good paint, good brushes, and a fine canvas, can produce something better than the factory man. That….
When she walked through the woods (infrequently now) she picked her way along the path, making way for the boy inside to run along before her. It cou….
Just when normal life felt almost possible - when the world held some kind of order, meaning, even loveliness (the prismatic spray of light through a….
She had learned, in her life, that time lived inside you. You are time, you breathe time. When she'd been young, she'd had an insatiable hunger for m….
I think it’s just as likely that someone could say that this place, right here, is heaven, hell and earth all at the same time. And we still wouldn’t….
You couldn't change a river into a sea, but you could trace a new channel for it to follow..