Lover," she whispers, and closes her eyes. It falls upon her. Love is like dying.

Paul LePage has become a terrible embarrassment to the state I live in and love. If he won't govern, he should resign.

I don't want to go to the heaven that I learned about when I was a kid. To me, it seems boring.

The late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood.

I don't take notes; I don't outline, I don't do anything like that. I just flail away at the goddamn thing. I'm a salami writer. I try to write good salami, but salami is salami. You can't sell it as caviar.

By writing a horror novel where this inexplicable disorder takes over in our ordered lives, you make order look better by comparison. But below that, there's a part of us that responds to the Who bashing their instruments to pieces on the stage. There's a very primitive part that says, "Do it some more."

Are you sure self-pity is a luxury you can afford, Jack?