Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.

It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.

Ice is for death and endings.

The heart has its own laws... and the truth is... the truth is that you are the law of mine.

The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down.

As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.

Lazy poets try to elicit a reader's response with words designed to tug at the heart.