I Like To Hang Out Clothes On

Hapscomb's Texaco Sat On Number 93 Just North Of Arnette, A Pissant Four-street Burg About 110 Miles From Houston.

Bad Writing Is More Than A Matter Of (expletive Deleted) Syntax And Faulty Observation; Bad Writing Usually Arises From A Stubborn Refusal To Tell Stories About What People Actually Do To Face The Fact, Let Us Say, That Murderers Sometimes Help Old Ladies Cross The Street.

So Where Do The Ideas-the Salable Ideas-come From? They Come From My Nightmares. Not The Night-time Variety, As A Rule, But The Ones That Hide Just Beyond The Doorway That Separates The Conscious From The Unconscious.

A Life Without Love Is Like A Tree Without Fruit.

When Machines Fail, When Technology Fails, When The Conventional Religion Fails, People Have Got To Have Something. Even A Zombin Lurching Through The Night Can Seem Pretty Cheerful Compared To The Existential Comedy/horror Of The Ozone Layer Dissolving Under The Combined Assult Of A Million Flurocarbon Spray Cans Of Deoderant." - The Mist