Endings are the most important part of stories. They grow inevitably from the stories themselves.

I had grown up in the 1950s, with radio and television and Reader's Digest, and I had assumed that everyone around us was pretty much alike.

Mystery, I’d read somewhere, is not the absence of meaning, but the presence of more meaning than we can comprehend.

At the heart of the impulse to tell stories is a mystery so profound.

There are moments when you stand on the brink of a new experience and understand that you have no choice about it. Either you walk into the experience or you turn away from it, but you know that no matter what you choose, you will have altered your life in a permanent way. Either way, there will be consequences.