Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God.

... suicide gets in the air sometimes. Like a cold germ.

No writer, painter, or actor - no artist - is ever handed a sharp knife (although a few people are handed almighty big ones; the name we give to the artist with the big knife is 'genius'), and we hone with varying degrees of zeal and aptitude.

In polite society, we call our obsessions hobbies.

Little by little, writers develop their own styles, each as unique as a fingerprint.

I think reality is thin, you know, thin as lake ice after a thaw, and we fill our lives with noise and light and motion to hide that thinness from ourselves.

As with all other aspects of fiction, the key to writing good dialogue is honesty.