When you're 11, walking home from school through this strange little English landscape, running these weird, wonderful things through your head ... well, now this is one of those 'I've never told anybody this before' things,

I've been making a list of the things they don't teach you at school. They don't teach you how to love somebody. They don't teach you how to be famous. They don't teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don't teach you how to walk away from someone you don't love any longer. They don't teach you how to know what's going on in someone else's mind. They don't teach you what to say to someone who's dying. They don't teach you anything worth knowing.

It's not a bad thing for a writer not to feel at home. Writers - we're much more comfortable at parties standing in the corner watching everybody else having a good time than we are mingling.

I saw some good signs that we can be a good running team. Who knows? If we hit some home runs, we could be a great running team.

I remember watching that national championship game (against Kansas) at my home. He was running the team then like he's running it now. To guard him is an honor.

Some of the plays we ran (in high school) were plays we'd been running for eight years.