Aren't you going to tell me I'm not so bad? she asked. Mmm-no. I was thinking how every man loves a hot girl with a history of making mistakes. Because it's always possible she'll make one with you.

Pick a sin we can both live with, is what I ask.

Work and pray, live on hay, youll get pie in the sky when you die.

I remind myself that no one day of writing matters all that much. A story is built somewhat like a stalactite - one little drip of mud and grit at a time.

Sooner or later a black car came for everyone.

We'll have freedom, love and health/When the grand red flag is flying, In the Workers' Commonwealth.

All the world is made of music. We are all strings on a lyre. We resonate. We sing together.