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“When I was eight years old, I wrote a paragraph-long short story about a goat on my mother's hundred-pound, black-and-white-screen laptop. The story came about largely because I liked the way the word 'goat' looked on the page, but I decided then and there that I wanted to be a writer. That desire never changed.”

“Standards are a little crazy these days. I think that, when you go to sleep, as long as you're happy with the way you are and the way you look, that's the most important thing. I think it's an internal thing. As long as you feel good with who you are and comfortable with what you're wearing, but not if that's the most important thing.”

“Those who today always look for disciplinarian solutions, those who long for an exaggerated doctrinal 'security,' those who stubbornly try to recover a past that no longer exists - they have a static and inward-directed view of things. In this way, faith becomes an ideology among other ideologies.”

“The idea for each of the stories in this book came in a moment of belief and was written in a burst of faith, happiness, and optimism. Those positive feelings have their dark analogues, however, and the fear of failure is a long way from the worst of them. The worst - for me, at least - is the gnawing speculation that I may have already said everything that I have to say, and am now only listening to the steady quacking of my own voice because the silence when it stops is just too spooky.”

“Pain is a difficult companion. There's no getting around that. But, if pain is to be a companion, searching and discovering your own best ways to travel with that pain will lead you to the joy that you long to have. They are your paths, your ways and while my experience and the experiences of others may inspire you, ultimately it will be the choices you discover and make for yourself that lead you to certain joy in the midst of your challenges.”

“Homesickness is a great teacher. It taught me, during an endless rainy fall, that I came from the arid lands, and like where I came from. I was used to dry clarity and sharpness in the air. I was used to horizons that either lifted into jagged ranges or rimmed the geometrical circle of the flat world. I was used to seeing a long way. I was used to earth colors--tan, rusty red, toned white--and the endless green of Iowa offended me. I was used to a sun that came up over mountains and went down behind other mountains. I missed the color and smell of sagebrush, and the sight of bare ground.”