We're all liars when it serves our purpose.

Books are like flypaper, memories cling to the printed pages better than anything else.

Hey, don't take this the wrong way, but don't come back, ok?

The Fairy's dress rustled as she turned. Human women dressed like flowers, layers of petals around a mortal, rotting core.

I just did a picture book called The Wildest Brother on Earth, and you will find both of my children in there.

Everything gets to me. I'm very sentimental.

Isn't it odd how much fatter a book gets when you've read it several times?