“...the vulgarity of an environment as bleakly desolate as the neon lights of the factory where the men go each morning, like sinners returning to hell...”
“Peering down into the water where the morning sun fashioned wheels of light, coronets fanwise in which lay trapped each twig, each grain of sediment, long flakes and blades of light in the dusty water sliding away like optic strobes where motes sifted and spun.”
“The freezing in hell that comes before the everlasting fire where sinners bubble and singe forever.”
“There are no environments where you're only going to win, because life just isn't like that.”
“If each day is a gift, I'd like to know where to return Mondays!”
“Love has a glow, like a neon light having sex with a pack of hi-lighters, only not quite as quaint.”