Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.

and they shook hands, hit each other on the shoulder, then there was forty feet of distance between them and nothing to do but drive away in opposite directions. Within a mile Ennis felt like someone was pulling his guts out hand over hand a yard at a time. He stopped at the side of the road and, in the whirling new snow, tried to puke but nothing came up. He felt about as bad as he ever had and it took a long time for the feeling to wear off.

It takes a year, nephew... a full turn of the calendar, to get over losing someone.

I would rather be dead than not read

A spinning coin, still balanced on its rim, may fall in either direction.

And I think that's important, to know how the water's gone over the dam before you start to describe it. It helps to have been over the dam yourself.

Was love then like a bag of assorted sweets passed around from which one might choose more than once? Some might sting the tongue, some invoke night perfume. Some had centers as bitter as gall, some blended honey and poison, some were quickly swallowed. And among the common bull's-eyes and peppermints a few rare ones; one or two with deadly needles at the heart, another that brought clam and gentle pleasure. Were his fingers closing on that one?