Love me, then, or hate me, as you will,” I said at last, “you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God’s, and be at peace.

Jesus, Dolores, you’ve got to get yourself together. You’ve got responsibilities. Think about those sometimes – okay? – and get your fucking head right.”Those were the last words his wife heard from him. He’d closed...

Life is you master, or death is.

Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day—and yet, I think,Few come within the compass of my curse,—Wherein I did not some notorious ill,As kill a man, or else...

The best part about being a writer is getting the last word.