Writers have superpowers.

We think of happiness as something we can take. But usually it comes from being content with what we have, and accepting ourselves.

I mean, what good is a women's lib if we can't use it to ask guys to dances?

Writers have superpowers.

Time passes. That's the rule. No matter what happens, no matter how much it might feel like everything in your life has been frozen around one particular moment, time marches on.

Clara," he says, my name sounding different somehow when it passes through his lips. "I'll miss you.

So often we only do what we think is expected of us, when we are capable of so much more.