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A Christian people who have for two hundred years kept a race in bondage, deprived of the advantages of civilization and religion, owe them a debt of gratitude which it would seem ungenerous to withhold.

The goal, I suppose, any fiction writer has, no matter what your subject, is to hit the human heart and the tear ducts and the nape of the neck and to make a person feel something about the characters are going through and to experience the moral paradoxes and struggles of being human.

I had liked him for all the wrong reasons.

And for well over a hundred years our politicians, statesmen, and people remembered that this was a republic, not a democracy, and knew what they meant when they made that distinction.

The Layers I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not who I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray. When I look behind, as I am compelled to look before I can gather strength to proceed on my journey, I see the milestones dwindling toward the horizon and the slow fires trailing from the abandoned camp-sites, over which scavenger angels wheel on heavy wings. Oh, I have made myself a tribe out of my true affections, and my tribe is scattered! How shall the heart be reconciled to its feast of losses? In a rising wind the manic dust of my friends, those who fell along the way, bitterly stings my face. Yet I turn, I turn, exulting somewhat, with my will intact to go wherever I need to go, and every stone on the road precious to me. In my darkest night, when the moon was covered and I roamed through wreckage, a nimbus-clouded voice directed me: “Live in the layers, not on the litter.” Though I lack the art to decipher it, no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written. I am not done with my changes.

If you aren't committed to diversity of thought, you have no business launching a startup.

What good is a character who's always winking at the audience to let them in on the secret?

Life has knocked me down plenty of times. But there’s always a little bit of me that tells me to get back up, to rise, and shine. It reminds me that I don’t belong in the dust. I belong in the stars and that’s where I should be headed. And that little bit of me… that’s the one I love the most!

Soy sauce is really a multi-purpose seasoning.

I've been to those places where it's 'poor, pitiful me.'

Whatever the offense dictates to allow me doing what I or this offense needs to do to win games, I'm going to do it.

You cannot make a revolution with silk gloves.

I have fond memories of consuming a handful of almonds that were soaked the previous night and peeled the next morning. All through my school life, my mother would ensure she kept some almonds in my tiffin box so that I would always have my daily dose of nutrition handy.

Evil is the product of the ability of humans to make abstract that which is concrete.

Do we want more of the same regulatory mission creep that has helped to harm America's poor and middle class? Do we want more of the policies that have stifled growth? Or do we want something else, something different, something that focuses on the need to reevaluate the size, the scope, the cost, the reach of the federal government?

I've got a feeling that music might not be the most interesting place to be in the world of things.

Organizations want small changes in functionality on a more regular basis. An organization like Flickr deploys a new version of its software every half hour. This is a cycle that feeds on itself.

If the whole world I once could see On free soil stand, with the people free Then to the moment might I say, Linger awhile. . .so fair thou art.

All parents should be aware that when they mock or curse gay people, they may be mocking or cursing their own child.

It was only after two years' work that it occurred to me that I was a writer. I had no particular expectation that the novel would ever be published, because it was sort of a mess. It was only when I found myself writing things I didn't realise I knew that I said, 'I'm a writer now.' The novel had become an incentive to deeper thinking. That's really what writing is—an intense form of thought.