History admits no rules; only outcomes.

Dreams are shores where the ocean of spirit meets the land of matter. Dreams are beaches where the yet-to-be, the once-were, the will-never-be may walk awhile with the still-are.

Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.

Writing is such a damn lonely sickness.

Peace, though beloved of our Lord, is a cardinal virtue only if your neighbors share your conscience.

I often lose myself in the Sudoku-like challenges of making a book work.

A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.