When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, 'Why god? Why me?' and the thundering voice of God answered, 'There's just something about you that pisses me off.'

We all do what we can, and it has to be good enough, and if it isn't good enough, it has to do.

...writing fiction...is no job for intellectual cowards.

Writing is seduction.

Was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?

Pray for rain all you like, but dig a well as you do it.

Small towns harbor small imaginations.