“To write and not tell the truth? That would be death for any writer. But more, it would be death to the imagination. And if the imagination dies, what would happen to the souls of children?”

“Writing is hard. Not as hard as not writing.Not writing is torturous, bloody, chaotic and a gruesome winless battle.A writer who writes, knows peace, lives connected to truth.Not writing is ache, betrayal, death of the soul and imagination.”

“I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. If I were to imagine heaven, I would imagine a door opening. And he would be waiting for me there.”

“The soul without imagination is what an observatory would be without a telescope.”

“My Mother... would tell me to imagine Jesus was in the backseat... and that would stop me. What really stopped me was imagining my mother in the backseat.”

“Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last. Imagine that you are doing this but that it is essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature...in order to found that edifice on its unavenged tears. Would you consent to be the architect on those conditions? Tell me. Tell the truth.”