Truth might be stranger than fiction, but it needs a better editor.
Fiction novels, that's my game.
the lonliest sound in the world is other people making love.
You don't like the girl. You don't know what color eyes she has, you don't like her.
The fire was silent, the little houses collapsing into the flames without complaint, flocks of sparks rising to the sky. At a distance it seemed beautiful, and I thought it was strange that powerful violence is often so pleasing to the eye.
Perhaps a hero is someone who doesn’t register his own vulnerability. Is it courage, then, if you’re too daft to know you’re mortal?