Sometimes they would sit in the parlor together, both reading – in entirely separate worlds, to be sure, but joined somehow. When this happened, other people in the family couldn't bring themselves to disturb them. All that could be heard in the parlor was the sound of pages, turning.

It doesn't matter what people tell you. It doesn't matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction.

You can't dispute the ridiculous. You can't argue reasonably with evil.

It's not the lie that's the problem; it's the distance the lie forges between you.

Hearts were made for being broken. There's really no way around it if you want to be a human being.

I think growing up is difficult and it's a process that I'm always interested in, with kids and adults, they are often on two different universes.

Some stories stayed with you even when you wanted to forget them.