He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the good place, and a heart-shaped leaf lay trapped in the hollow if his throat as though it were planned, though of course it was so perfect it couldn't have been planned.

I felt myself trapped in line for a ride I was not nearly ready for, looking back but moving forward in the only direction I could go.

Ruth has friends like other people have wardrobes. I mean that there's someone for every occasion.

I cried until my eyes swelled shut, and then I slept, a black, dreamless sleep from which I awoke amazingly refreshed, at least until I remembered.

Anything we have, we are only borrowing. Anything. Any time.

You don't get everything all at once. You wait.

As a writer, you should have a sticky soul; the act of continually taking things in should be as much a part of you as your hair color.