his yellow eyes gazed at me possessively -- I wondered if he realized that the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.

His wife's a brand of Christian that forbids a gathering that involves young women dancing in the streets but not races where men die

This object that we hold in our hands, a book... that tactile pleasure, it's just not going to go away.

If I only have ten minutes, Sam, this is what I want to say. You're not the best of us. You're more than that. You're better than all of us. If I only have ten minutes, I would tell you to go out there and live. I'd say...please take your guitar and sing your songs to as many people as you can. Please fold a thousand more of those damn birds of yours. Please kiss that girl a million times.

My father said once that if I didn't have my mother's ginger hair, I wouldn't blush or curse as easily. Which I though was unfair. I hardly ever curse or blush, even though I've had plenty of days that required both.

Oh, filmmakers, please don't take my soft book and turn it into a horror, or take my horror and make it soft.

The one reality was this: He was home. How badly he wanted to stay.