Write. Don't talk about writing. Don't tell me about your wonderful story ideas. Don't give me a bunch of "somedays." Plant your ass and scribble, type, keyboard. If you have any talent at all, it will leak out despite your failure to pay attention in English.

I guess I suffer from an impoverishment of the sociopathic spirit necessary to go big time.

I'm an incurable romantic. The essence of romance is an unshakable conviction that next time will be different.

Any man who barely sustains an armistice with himself has no business poking around in an alien soul.

Books are nothing but repositories for those lies the author wants his reader to believe.

Time will unfold its leaves.

The man who counts on the aid of a god deserves the help he doesn't get.