Writers write about what obsesses them. You draw those cards. I lost my mother when I was 14. My daughter died at the age of 6. I lost my faith as a Catholic. When I'm writing, the darkness is always there. I go where the pain is.

Curses of vanished elders echoed down on me; too pretty, too soft, too pale, eyes far too full of the Devil, ah, that devilish smile

I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over any lips, my hands!

How could anyone love Him? What did you just tell me yourself about the world? Don't you see, everybody hates God now. It's not that God is dead in the twentieth century. It's that everybody hates Him! At least I think so.

I think love can save the world. When we love, we completely recognize the value of the other.

You were the vampire in my dream. My perfect one.

It is tragic that many in America think of us - Christians - as being people who hate others.