There's comfort in a life lived in circles and its careful, sloping lines.
A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
One evening, after a particularly terrible row, the prince smashed his princess over the head with an old wooden clock and she tumbled to the floor, dead.
All stories are the sin of their weaver.
The child came to a stop beside her mother and stared up at her face as if she had never seen it before. It was the face of the new misery she felt, but on her mother it looked old and it looked as if...
I been starin' at the back a Jimmy Nelson's head for four grades now and I been noticin' how his blond hair curls against the skin on his neck and the birthmark shaped like a half-moon I wanna press m...
It would be one hell of an addition to someone's scrapbook. (Dark City Lights)
I have this uncanny knack of falling for the most irrelevant men,my love story would be comprising of short stories.
If I'd learned nothing else in my twenty-seven years on this planet, 'd learned that when someone gives you something totally unexpected and undeserved, you don't ask questions. (Dark City Lights)
If I'd learned nothing else in my twenty-seven years on this planet, I'd learned that when someone gives you something totally unexpected and undeserved, you don't ask questions.
I am content when writing short stories.
He'd wanted to mend her just like his mother had mended his favorite teddy bear when his arm had come loose after too much play. He offered her his pudding cup instead.
Wait, Connie said again. A . . . what? Am I going to sparkle or something? God, no, said Irwin and I together.
Death, is a beautiful conclusion to these short stories, that which we have so interestingly entitled, lives.
There’s an immense dramatic possibility in describing that universe. The books, for me, were an enormous relief in that sense of how they were written to allow primary emotion, elemental emotion, to m...
I think it is the art of the glimpse. If the novel is like an intricate Renaissance painting, the short story is an impressionist painting. It should be an explosion of truth. Its strength lies in wha...
What we are about to have here is a holy water smack down!
The weakness of a man is the strength of a woman
The dollar bills attached to her hips fluttered to the rug of the small square stage, like the first flakes of winter in the Bronx. (Dark City Lights)
Only the foolish, blinded by language's conventions, think of fire as red or gold. Fire is blue at it's melancholy rim, green in it's envious heart. It may burn white, or even, in it's greatest rages,...