Healing wasn’t always the best thing. Sometimes a hole was better left open. Sometimes it healed too thick and too well and left separate pieces fused and incompetent. And it was harder to reopen after that.

When you feel someone else's pain and joy as powerfully as if it were your own, then you know you really loved them.

Do you have any idea how much I've loved you?

I was supposed to write a romantic comedy, but my characters broke up.

She knew whose love she doubted. It wasn't her parents' and it wasn't her friends: It was her own.

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.

He'd pushed her. He'd scared her. He'd besieged her. He'd vowed he wouldn't, and he did.