The days and nights come apart. I feel them corroding at the seams.

Only in today's sick society can a man be persecuted for reading too many books.

The nightmares arrived like they always did, much like the best player in the opposition when you've heard rumors that he might be injured or sick-but there he is, warming up with the rest of them, ready to take the field.

I'm not one of these 'the characters write themselves; the story just fell out of me' kind of writers. Wish it was like that.

The paper landed on the table, but the news was stapled to his chest. A tattoo.

When death captures me," the boy vowed, "he will feel my fist in his face." (31.26)

Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.