The White May Blossom Swooned Slowly Into

I Had Never Liked, Even Feared A Little, This Wild Reach Of Marsh And Mud Flats Where Everything Seemed Turned Away From The Land, Looking Off Desperately Toward The Horizon As If In Mute Search For A Sign Of Rescue.

Most Crime Fiction, No Matter How 'hard-boiled' Or Bloodily Forensic, Is Essentially Sentimental, For Most Crime Writers Are Disappointed Romantics.

The Novel Is Resilient, And So Are Novelists.

A Man Is Not Much If He Can't Depend On Himself, And Nothing If Others Can't Depend On Him.

I Don't Own A Kindle, No. I Love Books, They Are Beautiful Objects.