It's easier to lie to yourself when you say things out loud.

You see$$$ the outcome of the battle is unimportant. What matters is the chaos$$$ and the slaughter.

Better to have flamed in the darkness$$$ to have inspired others$$$ to have lived$$$ than to have sat in the darkness$$$ cursing the people who borrowed$$$ but did not return$$$ your candle.

We do not always remember the things that do no credit to us. We justify them$$$ cover them in bright lies or with the thick dust of forgetfulness.

Work. Home. The pub. Meeting girls. Living in the city. Life. Is that all there is?

Short stories are tiny windows into other worlds and other minds and other dreams. They are journeys you can make to the far side of the universe and still be back in time for dinner.

Nobody gets through life without losing a few things on the way.

I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies.

A short story is the ultimate close-up magic trick -- a couple of thousand words to take you around the universe or break your heart.

Some things are too big to be seen; some emotions are too huge to be felt.