Autumn began to run. She felt an icy terror flood through her. He must have been waiting for her. He’d followed her all the way here. To this open, empty place. He knows where I live.

There was no sign of her daughter, no sign of a small body crumpled by the railway.

it wasn’t until the train went past that she saw the small body lying in the long grass by the side of the wood.

In the fleeting light she saw the meadow, dotted with stunted hawthorns, their twisted limbs dense with red berries, and then a shape: achingly familiar, child-sized, shockingly still.

Only one small, pale spot on her cheek was visible where her skin, free of blood, gleamed, as polished as bone.

And even then, it might not have been too awful, but his head snapped back and he hit a rock, breaking like a blunt molar from the ground.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us... Save my little girl...

Death is frightening, and so is Eternal Life.

Open markets offer the only realistic hope of pulling billions of people in developing countries out of abject poverty, while sustaining prosperity in the industrialized world.

The level of detail and craft is something that's inscribed within the original design concept. And so when I begin to draw, I know what kind of detailing I want the building to have.

President Bush has been silent on Schwarzenegger. Of course, he can't pronounce Schwarzenegger.

It was never about having a Mohican haircut or wearing a ripped T-shirt. It was all about destruction, and the creative potential within that.

The halberd is inferior to the spear on the battlefield. With the spear you can take the initiative, the halberd is defensive.

You always want to walk a tight-rope of flavor

I was born in the year the Titanic sank. The Titanic went down, and I came up. That tells you a little about the fairness of life.

Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

Memories I had locked away have begun to break free, like shards of ice fracturing off an arctic shelf. In sleep, these broken floes drift toward the morning light of remembrance.