The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

She didn't see him at first. She was watching the dancers. Her color was high, and there were deep dimples at the corners of her mouth. She looked nine miles out of place, but he had never loved her more. This was Willa on the edge of a smile.

Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

It's hard enough for a person to keep their own socks pulled up, let alone someone else's.

A person can't change all at once.

Any parting could be forever, and we don't know.

I'm seen as somebody who writes for adults because I'm an older man myself. Some of them find me, and a lot of them don't.