Don't misunderstand me. I am not scoffing at goodness, which is far more difficult to explain than evil, and far more complicated. But sometimes it's hard to put up with.

The farther north you go, the fewer fruits and vegetables there are. What kind of apple trees do you suggest the Inuit get their apples from? And how much oil is expended transporting such things out there? It's an equation.

No male writer is likely to be asked to sit on a panel addressing itself to the special problems of a male writer.

The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish drying on sand.

Despite their cool poses they wear their cravings on the outside, like the suckers on a squid. They want it all.

The young habitually mistake lust for love, they're infested with idealism of all kinds.

She had her reasons. Not that they were the same as anybody else's reasons.