The surprise with which a detective novel concludes should set up tragic vibrations which run backward through the entire structure.

We writers, as we work our way deeper into our craft, learn to drop more and more personal clues. Like burglars who secretly wish to be caught, we leave our fingerprints on broken locks, our voiceprints in bugged rooms, our footprints in the wet concrete.

When there's trouble in a family, it tends to show up in the weakest member. And all the other members of the family know that. They make allowances for the one in trouble.

I found myself wishing that we could live like the birds and move through nature without hurting it our ourselves.

An ugly woman with a gun is a terrible thing.

The delicate sensitivity of a frightened rattlesnake.

The surprise with which a detective novel concludes should set up tragic vibrations which run backward through the entire structure.