I’m not a big fan of inspiration. I’m too old to sit and wait for the muse to give me a little kiss… I write a lot, and I’m not afraid to make mistakes or...

No wonder I want to be Robert Mitchum: big, strong, super-cool, with those Freon eyes of his. That’s who I was pretending to be a minute ago – Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past....

Margaux looks around the table; this is not working. All of a sudden she’s thinking about a safe room, something she’s only heard of but suddenly wants: water, oxygen, bulletproof door, dead bolts, a thousand...

Happens to everybody sooner or later.

Little kids I don’t mind. Every kid wants a pony. It’s grown-ups that get my robe in a knot. Stop with the begging, okay? Adore me for a change. Or give thanks. I like gratitude....

The guys can’t take their eyes off Colleen… one of them… probably sees her just like I do, she’s the gatekeeper to another world.

OMG. He’s a gift shop, a lamb kebab with mint,/a solar panel poetry machine with biceps. He’s the path/through the dark woods, the light on the page, a postcard/from the castle and a one-way ticket...

Statements make sense for somebody who needs advice. I’m not giving advice. I don’t instruct. At my best, I delight. That’s my job.

You’re a miracle, Walker. Your fingers are. Your toes are. Your crushing sadness and guilt are.