He didn't seem to realize that three excuses was as good as no excuse.

Love didn't necessarily look the way you expected it to.

Women always seemed to bring the size they wished they were to the fitting room, rather than the size that would actually fit.

I love the idea of fictional worlds kind of all cohering in some way.

He took her hand and they started walking toward the baggage claim. They didn't say anything to each other. They swung their held hands like little kids, like they believed anything could happen, like they might take off soaring into the air. All the things you wanted to happen could happen. Why not?

As a writer, you live in such isolation. It's hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.

She wondered if maybe tragedy was what it took to make your heart capable of admitting a new member.