If the workers took a notion they could stop all speeding trains; every ship upon the ocean they can tie with mighty chains.

Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.

There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.

Some things you didn't give away, no matter how much you owed.

You know someone for a while and then one day a hole opens underneath them, and they fall out of your world.

Sooner or later a black car came for everyone.

... people made the imaginary real all the time: taking the music they heard in their head and recording it, seeing a house in their imagination and building it. Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.