It's so much easier to have no expectations than to have big ones.

She liked the life she had. She loved habits. She craved a day with nothing in it, a long, quiet stretch of hours in the studio.

Starting is hard so I really need to give myself permission to do a bad job. I always give myself leave to write total nonsense for as long as I need to release the pressure, because it's really hard to start if you feel like that first sentence you write has to actually mean something.

The present no matter what I brought couldn’t change the past. The Past was set and sealed.

She'd loved him as much as he'd let her. More than he'd let her.

How is it that a person could be so relieved and so disappointed, both at the same time.

I love that blurry place where life’s transitions are made without you even knowing it.