There's nothing like stories on a windy night when folks have found a warm place in a cold world.

Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists.

Hairstyles change, and skirt lengths, and slang, but high school administrations? Never.

It's only a little secret, but having a secret makes me feel better. Like a human being again.

I don't want to speak too disparagingly of my generation (actually I do, we had a chance to change the world and opted for the Home Shopping Network instead), but there was a view among the student writers I knew at that time that good writing came spontaneously, in an uprush of feeling that had to be caught at once; when you were building that all-important stairway to heaven, you couldn't just stand around with your hammer in your hand.

Lightning flashed dully inside the clouds on the horizon making them look as if they had fireflies of their own, monster fireflies the size of dinosaurs.

It's a hard life if you don't weaken.