Beware of a man with manners.

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

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.

Every story teaches me how to write it. Unfortunately, it doesn't teach me how to write the next one.

Time is anonymous; when we give it a face, it's the same face the world over.

Through travel I first became aware of the outside world; it was through travel that I found my own introspective way into becoming a part of it.

I think that as you learn more about writing you learn to be direct.