I don't *ever* write about real people. Art is supposed to be better than that. If you want a slice of life, look out the window.

Terms like that, 'Humane Society,' are devised with people like me in mind, who don't care to dwell on what happens to the innocent.

The older I get, the more I appreciate my rural childhood. I spent a lot of time outdoors, unsupervised, which is a blessing.

When you pick up a novel from the bed side table, you put down your own life at the same time and you become another person for the duration.

This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden.

Maybe he's been in Africa so long he has forgotten that we Christians have our own system of marriage, and it is called Monotony.

Few people know so clearly what they want. Most people can't even think what to hope for when they throw a penny in a fountain.