I think the best stories always end up being about the people rather than the event, which is to say character-driven.

The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

A place is yours when you know where all the roads go.

Maybe there's a whole other universe where a square moon rises in the sky, and the stars laugh in cold voices, and some of the triangles have four sides, and some have five, and some have five raised to the fifth power of sides. In this universe there might grow roses which sing. Everything leads to everything.

Put an egg in your shoe and beat it, make like a tree and leave, imitate an amoeba and split.

Outside, a gusty October breeze was combing leaves from the trees and sending them across her backyard in colorful skitters.

He understood well enough how a man with a choice between pride and responsibility will almost always choose pride--if responsibility robs him of his manhood.