I win, you win. You win, I win. The gun, I win. The fruit, you win. I win, you win.

I think of fear as a survival function, and in the stories that I write, the only thing that I've tried to do is provide people with nightmares which are really safe places to put those fears for a while because you can say afterwards that uh, that, that well it was all just make-believe anyway, so I just took my emotions for a walk.

Silent white light filled the world. And the righteous and unrighteous alike were consumed in that holy fire.

there's no harm in hoping for the best as long as you're prepared for the worst.

It wasn't just love that held people together. There was secrets, and the price you paid to keep them.

I don't mean that creative people are somehow finer, or more sensitive, and thus have finer, more sensitive nervous breakdowns - you can save that horseshit for the Sylvia Plath worshipers. It's just that creative people have creative breakdowns.

Small towns harbor small imaginations.