My boarding school experience was the only thing I had strong enough feelings to write about for hundreds and hundreds of pages. I can still smell the formaldehyde of the fetal pigs in biology.

I'm SO trying to give up meat.

I thought, if I write a book that is not a retelling of Pride and Prejudice, it's not going to mean that I will not get any criticism. I might as well write the book that I want to write.

And I am pretty sure that's the point of reading fiction -- so someone else can say in a way you never would have something you recognize immediately.

I just write the books that I think I would want to read.

But I never thought of who he wasn't, I never had to explain or defend him to myself, I didn't even care what we talked about.

We have to make mistakes, its how we learn compassion for others