She knows too well what it's like to tamp down your natural inclinations, to force a smile when you feel numb....The expression of emotion does not come naturally, so yo learn to fake it. To pretend. To display an empathy you don't really feel. And so it is that you learn to pass, if you're lucky, to look like everyone else, even though you're broken inside.

Time constricts and flattens, you know. It's not evenly weighted. Certain moments linger in the mind and others disappear.

In my teens I fancied myself an artist; I hung out with the eccentric art teacher at my high school, painted still lifes and portraits and landscapes in watercolor and acrylics, took private lessons, won some blue ribbons for my earnest renderings. My lack of talent did little to dampen my enthusiasm. In college I thought I'd continue, but, like Salieri, I quickly realized that while I had the ability to appreciate art, I wasn't actually very good.

You got to learn to take what people are willing to give.

I've come to think that's what heaven is- a place in the memory of others where our best selves live on.

I like the assumption that everyone is trying his best, and we should all just be kind to each other.

I never want to feel constrained by writing a novel for a specific audience.