Only a group lack of imagination could account for people not wondering what went on in the dark around them.

I thought about making biscuits, but there seemed to be more than enough calories on board.

Coffe is the perfume of morning.

Finally, I drew in a long breath. It was noisy and painful and just heaven.

I've often wished when I started a book I knew what was going to happen. I talked to writers who write 80-page outlines, and I'm just in awe of that.

Sometimes you just have to regret things and move on.

They say there's no harm in daydreaming, but there is.