A short story is a different thing altogether – a short story is like a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger.
There are things of such darkness and horror – just, I suppose, as there are things of such great beauty – that they will not fit through the puny human doors of perception.
Grab onto my arm now. Hold tight. We are going into a number of dark places, but I think I know the way. Just don’t let go of my arm. And if I should kiss you in the dark, it’s no big deal; it’s only because you are my love.
Good looks are cheap in a wealthy country.
Even the most well-adjusted person is holding on to his or her sanity by a greased rope.
Any a**hole knows how to die. The thing to learn is how to survive.