Ann Roberts

“A book lying idle on a shelf is wasted ammunition.”
― Henry Miller, The Books in My Life

“Die in winter woods," roared Tarin, as if it were his most
fervent wish. He was losing it again. Since being caught, he
had seen a boy with no balls or toes, a finger had been in his
ass twice, he'd been cooked, made to wear clothes, walked on
winter-lake stuff, wasted his gift, was going to have his tooth
pulled out and—scat—and he was being laughed at.”
― Syd McGinley, Out of the Woods

“Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

“I am shocked both that I hurt him and that my shoe hit him, because I do throw like the proverbial girl. I hurl stuff around secure in the knowledge I’ll miss my target.”
― Syd McGinley, Garnet: A Season In Hell