Say what you mean. Say what you see. Make a photograph, if you can, for the reader.

Any game looks straight if everyone is being cheated at once.

You pay for what you get, you own what you pay for... and sooner or later whatever you own comes back home to you.

He's a very nice man and all that, easy to get along with, fun, he never makes me cry. But is that love? I mean, is that all there is to it? Even when you learned to ride your two-wheeler, you had to fall off a few times and scrape both knees. Call it a rite of passage. And that was just a little thing.

There came a time when you realized that moving on was pointless. That you took yourself with you wherever you went.

I think it is beyond doubt that H. P. Lovecraft has yet to be surpassed as the twentieth century's greatest practitioner of the classic horror tale.

We're all going to die; I'm just trying to make it a little more interesting.