“When reading a book, one hopes it doesnt turn into a painful process. Predictable is bad enough. Laborious is acceptable if the labor produces fruit. But with painfully bad writing, all one can do ...”

“Ive had a fountain pen surgically implanted in my left index finger to save trouble. My body is tattooed with line upon line of truth, fiction, and a not-always-pleasing mix of the two.”

“I suck the words word-dryto me, assimilated orderly at breakeye speedstill hard and hardersofter thenline-lined book-drytil not a dropof water-bloodfrom oak and elmand authored menis left to whispe...”

“When I pour a bowl of Uncle Sams cereal, I never know if I should stand when I eat, salute it first, or simply hum the Star Spangled Banner between mouthfuls.”

“Split your skulla hatchet works well enough. Take a more delicate instrumenta scalpel, perhapsand make a hand-sized slit; it doesnt matter where. Reach in (no glove needed), plunge down to the very...”

“This piece of earth I billet grows small. Bullets of time dart past, dropping shards of opportunity at my feet. And until the rift that surrounds my decaying body clamps shutswallows me up like so ...”

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection”

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move ag...”

“Romance is the glamour which turns the dust of everyday life into a golden haze. ”

“I read a book, am vortexed in with no escape; my face contorts, eyelids frost, breath comes short, body longs, heart stop-starts. Whos to say too much wont kill me? Whos to say I care?”

“Writing is a beast to tame, an energy to transform. Whip that toad into a prince and French kiss it to life. We start at the top but keep looking down, from macro to micro, from what could work to ...”

“Writing makes me hard, like a fisherman, and brown from the heat. Tossing out and reeling in is a job for visionaries and those with calloused hands.”

“Real writers write. Period. No, the muse does not come to visit everyday. Shes a lazy, precocious flirt. You cannot get into the habit of being in the mood to write. No writer on Earth is in the mo...”

“Real writers write. Period. No, the muse does not come to visit everyday. She’s a lazy, precocious flirt. You cannot get into the habit of being “in the mood” to write. No writer on Earth is in the...”