Get busy living, or get busy dying.
The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.
Fiction is the truth inside the lie.
French is the language that turns dirt into romance.
Each life makes its own immitation of immortality.
We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.
When asked, "How do you write?" I invariably answer, "one word at a time."
When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, "There's just something about you that pisses me off."
You can't deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants.
God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live.
He had a massive stroke. He died with his tie on. Do you think that could be our generation's equivalent of that old saying about dying with your boots on?
I am the literary equivalent of a Big Mac and Fries.
I guess when you turn off the main road, you have to be prepared to see some funny houses.
I watched Titanic when I got back home from the hospital, and cried. I knew that my IQ had been damaged.
It's better to be good than evil, but one achieves goodness at a terrific cost.
No, it's not a very good story - its author was too busy listening to other voices to listen as closely as he should have to the one coming from inside.
Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.
People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... and I keep it in a jar on my desk.
Talent in cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.
The devil's voice is sweet to hear.
The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of because words diminish your feelings - words shrink things that seem timeless when they are in your head to no more than living size when they are brought out.
The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there... and still on your feet.