She kept walking. The very small, brave part of her brain knew that this would be her one chance. If she turned around, she would lose it.

Marnie hated to see her spend so much of herself on someone who didn't care.

Your problem isn't the problem, it's your attitude about the problem.

She wasn't as destructive as Bee. She had never been as dramatic. Rather, she'd slipped carefully, stealthily away from her ghosts.

Gestating characters feels something like the mental equivalent of gestating a baby. In both cases, to create them you lose yourself. Or at least you reshape yourself to encompass them.

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

So far, she’d been her usual lame self: solitary and routine-loving, carefully avoiding any path that might lead to spontaneous human interaction. Lena Kaligaris