He unscrewed the lid, set it on the dash, snorted from the bottle twice, banged the steering wheel, and said, 'You got to be ready to die every day - then you got a chance.'

He unscrewed the lid, set it on the dash, snorted from the bottle twice, banged the steering wheel, and said, 'You got to be ready to die every day - then you got a chance.'

I always loved the verve and vivacity of pulp and I kind of merged it with my own interest in family stories.

Long, dark, and lovely she had been, in those days before her mind broke and the parts scattered and she let them go.

The heart's in it then, spinning dreams, and torment is on the way. The heart makes dreams seem like ideas.

When I started to be a writer, I was not going to run the risk of boring you.

Love and hate hold hands always so it made natural sense that they'd get confused by upset married folk in the wee hours once in a while and a nosebleed or bruised breast might result. But it just seemed proof that a great foulness was afoot in the world when a no-strings roll in the hay with a stranger led to chipped teeth or cigarette burns on the wrist.