Sunday night, I reread The Catcher in the Rye until I felt tired enough to fall asleep. Only I never got tired enough. And I couldn't read, because reading didn't feel the same.

Think of me as the praying mantis of the supernatural world. Aren't those the bugs that bite the heads off the males? Link looked skeptical. Yes. Then they eat them

Nightmares end. That's how you know they're nightmares.

You're incredibly, absolutely, extremely, supremely, unbelievably different.

Don’t think so. We all make our choices, and those choices have consequences.

These are the kinds of things a guy thinks about when he visits his own grave.

Everyone under the age of sixty called it the War Between the States, while everyone over sixty called it the War of Northern Aggression, as if somehow the North had baited the South into war over a bad bale of cotton.Read