“Do you have a finger stick?” she snapped. “No.” “Then let me cut your finger.” “You’re already bleeding,” I said. “Use your blood.”

“You poke at evil with a stick," Valerie had said, offering chilling advice they'd never forget. "Never use your fingers.”

“She told me to wait,that I was going to lose a finger." Earl looked toward the kitchen and back at Ty and Duece. He snorted. "I asked her, did she think I was stupid? Then a couple of snips later, whack. Off went the finger. And you know what that woman said to me? I said 'Mara you cut my finger off.' And your mother said to me, 'Well Earl who's stupid now?”

“Dedication. DEDICATION. That is the only way to become a writer. Write every day. Write until your fingers bleed, your eyes bleed, your soul bleeds. From that blood, stories are born. It's worth it.”

“I've said it before, and I'll say it again. When you find something at which you have talent, you do that thing (what ever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes pop out of your head.”

“There are many reasons, of course, why someone might snap their fingers and grin. If you heard some pleasing music, for instance, you might snap your fingers and grin to demonstrate that the music had charms that could soothe your savage breast. If you were employed as a spy, you might snap your fingers and grin in order to deliver a message in secret snapping-and-grinning code.”