The smooth stones you pick up and examine under the moon's light have been made blue from the sea. Next morning when you pull them from your trouser pocket, they are still blue.

He wondered if she wondered if he were watching her.

Remember Haydn's 104 symphonies. Not all of them were great. But there were 104 of them.

That morning she pours Teacher's over my belly and licks it off. That afternoon she tries to jump out the window.

There's literary creation and literary business. When I first got something accepted, it gave my life a validation it didn't otherwise have.

When a reader finishes a wonderful story and lays it aside, he should have to pause for a minute and collect himself.

I am a cigarette with a body attached to it