Remembering is part of thinking, but not all of it.

In a story, you can turn to the front and begin again and everyone lives once more. That doesn't work in real life. And I love my real people the most.

It's been so long since I've let myself feel anger that I don't just feel it. It covers my mouth and I swallow it down, the taste sharp and metal as though I'm gnawing through foilware.

I realize now how much courage it takes to choose the life you want, whatever that might be.

Once you want something, everything changes. Now I want everything. More and more and more.

It's not knowing how to write that makes you interesting, it's what you write.

Theres nothing like reading about a world that feels dead to throw your own beautiful, colorful life into sharp relief.