He's most likely robbing the bank as a paycheck on the world for winning the ugliness prize at his local fete three years running.

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

Around us I can sniff out a savagery in the noisy southern air. It knifes it's way into my nose, but I do not bleed blood. It's fear I bleed, and it gushes out over my lip. I wipe it away, in a hurry.

I like that every page in every book can have a gem on it. It's probably what I love most about writing--that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, rearranging things, swapping them around. They're the best moments in a day of writing -- when an image appears that you didn't know would be there when you started work in the morning.

The happening that happened was that I met this girl.

I feel the fear, but I walk fast toward it.

There were stars. They burned my eyes.