Evil Cannot And Will Not Be Vanquished

I Never Had A Plan, Except To Write. I Love What I Do, And Have From The Beginning. Loving What You Do Makes It A Lot Easier To Work, Every Day, To Face The Tough Spots And Heel In For The Long Haul. Nothing Against Plans; They Work For Some People. But For Me, If I'd Been Planning, Worrying About Numbers, Trying To Micro-manage My Career, I Wouldn't Have Focused On The Writing. If You Don't Write, You're Not Read. If You're Not Read, You Don't Sell. So That's My Master Plan, I Guess. Write The Books, Let The Agent Agent, The Editor Edit, The Publisher Publish.

He Trailed Off As He Saw The Books. Piles And Stacks Of Them Beside The Sofa, Another Stack On The Coffee Table, A Sea Of Them On Her Dining Table. Jesus Christ, Dane, You Need Treatment.

She Raised Her Eyes To His. They Had Both Come From Misery, She Thought, And Survived It. They Had Been Drawn Together Through Violence And Tragedy, And Had Overcome It. They Walked Different Paths And Had Found A Mutual Route. Some Things Last, She Thought. Some Ordinary Things. Like Love.

That Woman Doesn't Have The Sense God Gave A Retarded Flea.

Memories Are Nice Little Possessions. As Long As You Don't Ignore The Present When You Take Them Out To Play.