The beauty of language lies in its ability to convey the inexpressible.

The deep, personal material of the latter half of your life is your children. You can write about your parents when they're gone, but your children are still going to be here, and you're going to want them to come and visit you in the nursing home.

Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks.

Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tips of my words.