Beauty is a whore, I like money better.

I’m talking about a little truth-in-packaging here. To be perfectly frank, you don’t quite look like yourself. And if you walk around looking like someone other than who you are, you could end up getting...

What she wants to say has to do not only with joy but with the penetrating, constant fear that is joy’s other half.

Barret thinks- he thinks, briefly- of turning around and leaving the park; of being, this time, the vanisher, the man who leaves you wondering, who offers no explanation, not even the sour satisfaction of a...

Here is the world, and you live in it, and are grateful. You try to be grateful.