Ironically, now that my children are older and gone quite a bit, I find it harder to work when they're not around. Too much free time!

I'm a really eclectic reader.

I wrote to find beauty and purpose, to know that love is possible and lasting and real.... Once I got to my desk, once I started writing, I still believed anything was possible.

I didn’t want to be prideful anymore. I wanted to be as hard as and brittle as the stones I carted into the woods. Stones that could not feel or cry or see. I wished not to feel anything at all. In no time, what I wished for, I became.

He wanted pain, I saw that in him, and what a man wants he will often manage to find.

I have crossed over to a place where I never thought I’d be. I am someone I would have never imagined. A secret. A dream. I am this, body and soul. Burn me. Drown me. Tell me lies. I will still be who I am.

She was so busy forgetting, she couldn't take a single step into the future.