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There are certain defects which well mounted glitter like virtue itself.

Only one constant existed: I wrote. Writing was my center of gravity.

Mentors can suggest to you what more you are capable of.

Heaven preserve me from the Epidemic of a Proud Ignorance!

The future of the book began to appear among imaginary woods.

Most days, at the pool, we are able to leave our troubles on land behind.

How does he do it? I’ve been trying to figure this out for the past decade.

Love’s not all that fun, but it saves you. And you should be saved.

Best part of the day? The part when I come up with an idea for a cartoon.

It helped me free myself from a longtime source of unhappiness.

Henry Chinaski is just so deplorable and lovable; he makes me laugh.

Love is the difference between a full life and an empty one.

This is kind of a big, wet valentine, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you throw it out?

Favorite character? What a question. It’s like choosing a favorite child.

I once heard in a sermon, “Choose the important over the urgent.”

I’m obsessed with finding a convertible that has enough room.

Love enlarges. What you put out into the world, you get back tenfold.

I usually get my best writing done at night or at the close of day.

Don’t write what you know. Write what you can imagine.

I’ve found that love has provided my life’s happiest moments.

A friend of my father’s once told me, “You’ll never be a writer.”

Love is not something you wait for passively, but a practice.

I know now not to measure my insides against others’ outsides.

“Nobody asked you to write.” Over time, I realized it was a magic key.

The Great Gatsby had an awful, detrimental effect on me.

One of my stories was rejected by a journal as “theatrical and self-limiting.”

I’ve read this novel at various stages of my life and I feel as if I know Isabel.

Art doesn’t conform to a capitalist’s ratio of productivity to time.

My grandmother read one of my early stories and warned—don’t force your muse.