When did I stop being me?
I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.
So what if I'm ninety-three? So what if I'm ancient and cranky and my body's a wreck? If they're willing to accept me and my guilty conscience, why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
Honey, I plan to marry you the moment the ink is dry on that death certificate.
Life is the most spectacular show on earth.
When will people learn that just because you can make something doesn’t mean you should?