Watching the dailies and then watching the... episodes, it really hits you: 'Damn, I did that?' I must have been crazy to get into those situations.

I didn't appreciate Brooklyn until I left it.

Quite often somebody will say, What year do your books take place? and the only answer I can give is, In childhood.

I am always looking for that nuance, that moment of truth, and you can't really do that fast.

You know you've come full circle when you're working with Charo.

I feel like I've grown a lot.

A voice is such a deep, personal reflection of character.

My girlfriend and I rented a nice house on the river and I was there for about two and a half months, and we were just out of Alabama. I hardly got to see Alabama.

I would have been a business woman if I hadn't joined television.

It was in the 1920s, when nobody had time to reflect, that I saw a still-life painting with a flower that was perfectly exquisite, but so small you really could not appreciate it.

They built these little tanning booths for Brooke and me to do nothing but lay down and tan all over.

I look at my little girl and I wonder what she's going to be and what she's going to do and what is it that leads girls certain directions in life. I think a lot of that goes back to what kind of...

Life is sad. People, you know, are going to pass, and you know that you will one day.

Hurried and worried until we're buried, and there's no curtain call, Life's a very funny proposition after all.

The beauty of the past belongs to the past.

During all these years there existed within me a tendency to follow Nature in her walks.

Autumn's the mellow time.

The beach is a natural park, without the greenery but the sand is a natural toy.

He who has lived a day has lived an age.

Life is a jig saw puzzle with most of the pieces missing.

I love the start of autumn when the trees in my garden change the colour of their leaves in one last dazzling display.

This was a lucky recollection - - it saved her from something like regret.

What happened yesterday was obviously a mistake, and it will never be spoken of again. Goodbye forever.

Goodbye. Goodbye. I can't feel you anymore. The night is almost too beautifully pure for my soul to contain. I walk with my arms spread open under the big fat moon. Heroic weeds rise up from the...

Life is beautifully tragic. Giving it up isn't the hard part

As he walked along, consciously enjoying the early coolness of the morning, he turned and looked behind him. People often do this and are usually surprised to find that there is some reason for...

This is unbearable ... God. These books she'll never read. Her Life's Library.

In the distance, mongrel dogs were howling out the coyote portion of their ancestry. All the sounds of the night seemed to pass through a hollow tunnel of indefinite length.

Someone asked me, what colour were those two years of living in Korea? I thought about it for a long time. There was no colour, I don't know what colour hard work is.

Most fires crackle and pop, but that's not really the fire talking, it's the wood. To hear the fire itself you need a huge blaze like this one, a furnace so powerful it roars with its own wind. I...