This is how God made me. You are how God made you. All God's chillun are made how God made 'em. You think God made a mistake, take it up with Him.

He was breathing, which is always a good sign. As gently as I could I picked him up, placed him on the towel, wrapped it around him, and put him in my car. I drove to the emergency clinic, the cat purring on the seat beside me. “What’s his name?” the young man at the front desk asked as my towel and cat were whisked to a back room. “Uh…John Tomkins,” I said. “That’s different,” the receptionist said, writing it down. “He was a pirate,” I said. “I mean Tomkins. I don’t know about the cat. (...)

If there was one life skill everyone on the planet needed, it was the ability to think with critical objectivity

The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.

He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.

I know you've all heard the advice, "Show, don't tell." The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.

I gave a helpless laugh. “Damned if I know. I think…we seem to have reached impasse. I feel betrayed by your friendship with Verlane. I realize that’s not logical. I realize that if I’d made the mistakes Verlane has made, I’d want my friends to stand by me, hope that someone would help me when the time came. I just…” “What?” I met his eyes. “I just need to come first for someone, Guy.