“The gun was in Mrs. Jones's left hand. She put her right hand behind her, between my legs, then held on to my cock like it was a leash.” — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share Image
“We'd had sex like we were whores to each other, and when it was done, we each moved to our side of the bed,… — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
love is a mental illness, an obsessive-compulsive disorder romanticized! — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“. . . Your hair--it's kind of wavy. Indian in your blood, or are you a hypocrite and texturize your hair?" He hesitated, appeared… — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“Rainwater diluted redness, created a pink death, his matter mixing through mud and grass.” — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“. . . I had on . . . black jeggings under a fitted, sleeveless, flowered dress, so he could see my true shape… — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
For a lot of people, becoming an author is a change in occupation... they are coming from something that totally has nothing to do… — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
We see what we want to see. We idealize each other with our own fantasies. — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
It’s scary telling someone you care about, someone you love who you really are. — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“Ownership, even in love, is an illusion. No woman owned any man and no man owned any woman.” — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
hate isn't healthy, it damages the hater more than the one who's hated! — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“Losing your job is like having your identity stolen, like having what defined you run through a paper shredder. After a while the despair… — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
“It is silent, an anagram for listen. That is what I do. Listen while she remains silent.” — Eric Jerome Dickey Copy Share
