One thing about failing repeatedly: If you're still doing it after you've failed that much, you really mean it.

How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away.

Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that day that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.

At fourteen, my sister sailed away from me into a place I’d never been. In the walls of my sex there was horror and blood, in the walls of hers there were windows.

Life is a perpetual yesterday for us.

Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.

Every day a question mark.