“Can I tell you something? It wasn't so bad. Not so bad at all right then, me scowling at the dirt, James in his bed, the way it always always was. Look, if that's all that happened, if his dying ju...”

“Here's what I think: when you're born, you're assigned a brain like you're assigned a desk, a nice desk, with plenty of pigeonholes and drawers and secret compartments. At the start, it's empty, an...”

“Whatever you have lost there are more of, just not yours.”

“Im so sorry, he said, because after Pamela died, he promised himself that if anyone told him the smallest, saddest story, he would answer, Im so sorry. Meaning, Yes, that happened. You couldn't bel...”

“All I can say is, it's a sort of kinship, as though there is a family tree of grief. On this branch, the lost children, on this the suicided parents, here the beloved mentally ill siblings. When so...”

“Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving.”

“Justice is the only worship.Love is the only priest.Ignorance is the only slavery.Happiness is the only good.The time to be happy is now,The place to be happy is here,The way to be happy is to make...”

“Be a good human.”

“Our country in general assumes that "the pursuit of happiness" really means "the pursuit of pleasure" and that therefore pleasure is the greatest good.”

“Sometimes a strikeout means that the sluggers girlfriend just ran off with the UPS driver. Sometimes a muffed ground ball means that the shortstops baby daughter has a pain in her head that wont go...”

“Youre not going to always hit a home run in life. Youre going to strike out! Youre going to walk to the dugout of life, frustrated, while spectators chirp your name in judgment. Theyre afraid to ev...”

“He has the body of a professional athlete, chiseled to perfection in all the right places.”

“All words are pegs to hang ideas on.”

“A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”

“No doubt I shall go on writing, stumbling across tundras of unmeaning, planting words like bloody flags in my wake....”