We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why. Not until the future eats the present, anyway. We know when it's too late.

For a woman a man will do many things that he'd turn his back on in an instant when alone; things he'd back away from, nine times out of ten, even when drunk adn with a bunch of his friends egging him on.

Above, the stars shone hard and bright, sparks struck off the dark skin of the universe.

A broken spoon may be a fork in disguise.

There are, occasionally, writers who are able to combine both story and style. They are, of course, the best. You get a spectacular view and you also get to look at it from the backseat of a chauffeur-driven Cadillac. In the field of fantasy, those writers able to combine story-as-narration with story-as-style are even rarer. But there are a few...the late Theodore Sturgeon, the early Ray Bradbury...and Richard Christian Matheson. A brilliant chip off the old block.

The redness was going out of the light now, the remains of the day were a fading pink, the color of wild roses.

Just remember that Dumbo didn't need the feather; the magic was in him.