I've always been intrigued by the power of secrets. When is it justifiable to keep them from the ones we love? And does keeping them irrevocably change who we are?

I really try to focus on my books and readers.

He who fails to plan, plans to fail.

How different this moment feels, for so many reasons. I tell myself that no two loves are identical - but that I don't have to compare anymore.

Guilt is a supreme waste of time and energy.

It's amazing to me how few guys know their friends' birthdays.

[The] maid of honor - the unambiguous, grown-up equivalent of wearing best friend necklaces.