Where Was The Middle Ground Between A

What I Discovered I Liked Best About Striking Out On My Bicycle Was That The Farther I Got From Home, The More Interesting And Unusual My Thoughts Became.

I Have To Have A Character Worth Caring About. I Tend Not To Start Writing Books About People I Don't Have A Lot Of Sympathy For Because I'm Just Going To Be With Them Too Long.

You Just Kind Of Have Faith. If That Sounds Kind Of Mystical, It's Because I Really Don't Know How It Works, But I Trust That It Does. I Try To Write The Way I Read, In Order To Find Out What Happens Next.

"if You Paid Me For Work," Continued Max, Whose Rhetoric Was More Sophisticated Than You Might Expect From A Man With Food In His Beard, "i Wouldn't Have To Feel Worthless. There's Not Law Says Old People Have To Feel Worthless All The While, You Know. You Paid Me, I'd Have Some Dignity." Now It Was Mile's Turn To Nod And Smile Agreeably. "i Think The Dignity Ship Set Sail A Long Time Ago, Dad."

My Dad Had This Rock Hard Body And Would Work 12- To 13-hour Days. The Guys He Worked With Were Scrap-iron Guys. Nobody On That Road Crew Had Read A Book In 10 Years, But There Was Something About The Way They Lived I Really Admired.