Once the rains abated, my father's garden thrived in the heat like an unleashed temper.

You know reviewers, they are the wind in their own sails.

Every betrayal contains a perfect moment, a coin stamped heads or tails with salvation on the other side.

I know people. Most have no earthly notion of the price of a snow-white conscience.

He was getting that look he gets, oh boy, like Here comes Moses tromping down off of Mount Syanide with ten fresh ways to wreck your life.

Some of us know how we came by our fortune and some of us don't; but we wear it all the same

I write every moment that is humanly possible. I write every day and every night. The only discipline I lack is the discipline is to quit.