Step out from behind the words. When you're a writer you can imagine that the words speak for you and are you, but they're not. You are this living breathing bad hair day kind of person.

We grow too old to lose old friends.

Nature is not the number-one mystery, I’ve learned. It’s the heart that takes top honors.

You know how a river goes on and on? That's my love for you.

In high school, my desire for friendship far outweighed my talent for it.

Imagine music gushing down the hollow places in your bones, and making you liquid, and giving you speed. Imagine music turning your body into a song.

Forgiveness, which is the place that every story turns, the chance we give each other.