They are so young, they forget that the world is not as in love with them as they are.

Piece by piece living is hard to do. It may even feel like the hardest thing. But it has this going for it: you never need to know what it is you're carrying on your shoulders.

The world should not be organized to require heroines, and when one is required but fails to appear, we should not judge.

Depression is anger slowed down; panic is grief speeded up.

Writing is a hellish task, best snuck up on, whacked on the head, robbed and left for dead.

Do you think there's such a thing as a ghost who masquerades as a person? Do you believe that there are people whose bodies are still alive here on earth but whose souls are already in hell?

Tell the story, gather the events, repeat them. Pattern is a matter of upkeep. Otherwise the weave relaxes back to threads picked up by birds to make their nests. Repeat, or the story will fall and all the king's horses and all the king's men. . . . Repeat, and cradle the pieces carefully, or events will scatter like marbles on a wooden floor.