There is no weather in malls.

Try to get your characters into interesting trouble. Allow your characters to misbehave. Let them stay out after 11.

The point is that although love may die, what is said on its behalf cannot be consumed by the passage of time, and forgiveness is everything.

In February, the overcast sky isn’t gloomy so much as neutral and vague. It’s a significant factor in the common experience of depression among the locals. The snow crunches under your boots and clings to your trousers, to the cuffs, and once you’re inside, the snow clings to you psyche, and eventually you have to go to the doctor. The past soaks into you in this weather because the present is missing almost entirely.

As the poet says, all happy couples are alike, it's the unhappy ones who create the stories. I'm no longer a story. Happiness has made me fade into real life.

If you want to see the consequences of ideas, write a story. If you want to see the consequences of belief, write a story in which somebody is acting on the ideas or beliefs that she has.

[T]he astonishing purity of pain, how it will not be mixed with any other sensation.