I'm happy pretty well anywhere on this big, beautiful planet.

Any writer will be happy and good only if they know what they're doing and why they're doing it.

Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can get.

In all big cities the style of life is the same. Same endless array of restaurants; same big museums with the usual suspects; same anonymity, which can be thrilling when you're young but which I found got tiresome.

I love Canada. It's a wonderful political act of faith that exists atop a breathtakingly beautiful land.

But immobilizing darts don't bring on sleep gently, like a good cup of tea; they knock out like a bottle of hard liquor straight up.