“I’m here for the show” the man saidlooking under Frank’s shirt for the door“I’m no theater” Frank saida line formedmust he admit them all?many had umbrellasa blind womanwaited withher dog“it’s gonna be a great show” someone said“but when’s he gonna let us in?”Frank’s tears began to fallsomeone ripped his doors openthey filled him for an hour”

“In a world of watered-down bestsellers and formula novels, Hitching to Nirvana eases back just enough to show the blade which cuts the real open, then bolts forward again, giving us a charged, swerving dance to self-actualization. Hitching to Nirvana is a magnetic forcefield, not just pulling us beautifully into the story, but into our own lives. It's rare when a writer can open the shared world with such a deft, personal touch. Janet Mason is a genius.”

“For love, Frank spoke softly into envelopes instead of writing letters.”

“every March Frankloses his circle of friendshe's in the backyardface in handssurrounded by sevencarrots and sevencorncob pipes in sevenpuddles of water withfourteen eyesmade outof coal”

“You know the way Jesus rips open his shirt to show us his heart, all flaming and thorny, the way he points to it. I’m afraid the way I’ll miss you will be this obvious.”

“I'm not the kind of faggot who wants to put a rainbow sticker on a machine gun.”

“The master of this shop was sitting at the door in his shirt-sleeves, smoking; and as there were a great many coats and pairs of trousers dangling from the low ceiling, and only two feeble candles burning inside to show what they were, I fancied that he looked like a man of a revengeful disposition, who had hung all his enemies, and was enjoying himself.”