When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure.

Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside?

My mother, Abra, had taught me that all people are made from the same dust. When our days here are gone, all men and women enter the same garden.

Our rest is formed by our waking life and our waking life is formed by our sorrows.

All the characters in my books are imagined, but all have a bit of who I am in them - much like the characters in your dreams are all formed by who you are

In a world of sorrow, love was an act of will. All you needed were the right ingredients.

Holding a tear back makes them drain upward, higher and higher, until one day your head just explodes and you're left with a stub of a neck and nothing more.