She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.

When the dawn was still long hours away, bad thoughts took on flesh and began to walk. In the middle of the night thoughts became zombies.

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

In the years since, I've discovered there's a lot to be said for boredom.

Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about? And the equally big answer: Anything you damn well want. Anything at all .... as long as you tell the truth.

Weird love's better than no love at all.

Later, going home, I realized they didn't look alike at all; what made them seem to was the aftermath of stress and the lingering of sorrow. It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family.