The first thing we see about a short story is its mystery. And in the best short stories, we return at the last to see mystery again

It is our inward journey that leads us through time – forward or back, seldom in a straight line, most often spiraling. Each of us is moving, changing, with respect to others. As we discover, we remember; remembering, we discover; and most intensely do we experience this when our separate journeys converge. Our living experience at those meeting points is one of the charged dramatic fields of fiction.

Each day the storm clouds were opening like great purple flowers and pouring out their dark thunder. Each nightfall, the storm was laid down on their houses like a burden the day had carried.

Never think you've seen the last of anything.

Passion is our ground, our island - do others exist?

Location pertains to feelings - feelings are bound up in place.

The fictional eye sees in, through, and around what is really there.