“In the open sky above the hushed streets, the moon was a porcelain plate on a black table as I walked home.… — Andrew Cotto Copy Share Image
“You're not just a washed-up has been. You're a never-will-be. You sit in your clutter, nursing old ghosts, pretending the world will… — J Cruthe Copy Share Image
“The cotton was open and spilling into the fields; the very air smelled of it. In field after field as he passed… — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
“the old and worn buildings held a theatrical magic to their fading façades. They were weathered almost by design; they almost looked… — Robertson Tait Copy Share Image
