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

My household is, in a nice way, very busy.

The word friends doesn't seem to stretch big enough to describe how we feel about each other. We forget where one of us starts and the other one stops.

People said things they didn't mean all the time. Everybody else in the world seemed able to factor it in. But not Lena. Why did she believe the things people said? Why did she cling to them so literally? Why did she think she knew people when she clearly didn't? Why did she imagine that the world didn't change, when it did? Maybe she didn't change. She believed what people said and she stayed the same." (Lena, 211)

You are not going to die, I know I said I'd let you, but I can't.

I sometimes think the stronger you feel about someone, the harder it is to picture their face when you are away from them.

Everyone is fragile. Everything beautiful is fragile