I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind. I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart.

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

We all float down here!

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.

What I'm saying is that I'm trying to find rational reasons to explain irrational feelings, and that's neveer a good sign.

Never give a good politician time to pray.

Listening to it was like having a mud-slimed piece of silk drawn lightly back and forth across her face.