“The editor will be an extension of your hand; the keys will sing as they slice their way through text and thought.”

“Don't worry?! You sliced your hand open!”

“If your blade were as sharp as your tongue, you'd have sliced my through years ago.”

“There was an old joke about being left on a deserted island with an editor. You are starving. All you have left is a glass of orange juice. Days pass. You are near death. You are about to drink the juice when the editor grabs the glass from your hand and pees into it. You look at him, stunned . "There," the editor says, handing you the glass. "It just needed a little tweaking.”

“Please lift your snowy skies off my soul -Your diamond dreams slice through my veins”

“If Hell is where nothing connects, then being in the field of English must be the key to heaven's door! We are in the business of finding connections--within texts, between texts and contexts, between texts and ourselves, between our readings and the readings of other interpreters.”