But souls can't be sold. They can only be lost and never found again.

Everyone must leave something behind when he dies . . . Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die . . . It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away.

Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed.

It's lack that gives us inspiration. It's not fullness.

If you want to be a good writer, be the best writer in the world. That's what I've done.

Living at risk is jumping off the cliff and building your wings on the way down.