I saw that my best work was my most personal work, which is odd, because my fiction is very far afield and has nothing to do with my life.

Some people need a huge amount of attention, and they are worthy of that attention, and they're still exhausting.

My novels are very much the same, as I think many people's novels are.

There was such an incredible logic to kissing, such a metal-to-magnet pull between two people that it was a wonder that they found the strength to prevent themselves from succumbing every second. Rightfully, the world should be a whirlpool of kissing into which we sank and never found the strength to rise up again.

There was no time for kissing but she wanted him to know that in the future there would be. A kiss in so much loneliness was like a hand pulling you up out of the water, scooping you up from a place of drowning and into the reckless abundance of air. A kiss, another kiss.

I know where I'm going. And if I don't know where I'm going, I don't tend to get anywhere.

Staying within the world of a novel gives us the ability to be quiet and alone, two skills that are disappearing faster than the polar icecaps.