I hate desks; they make me feel like a child doing homework.

People are locked up in all sorts of ways.

Me and Ma have a deal, we're going to try everything one time so we know what we like.

You know who you belong to Jack? - Yeah. Yourself. - He's wrong, actually, I belong to Ma. p. 261 Room by E Donoghue

Writing is nearly always a matter of finding whatever your brain needs to trick it into being creative, and in my case, a tiny little bit of fact just seems to work.

The sound of the pages turning was the sound of magic. The dry liquid feel of paper under fingertips was what magic felt like.

At the door, there was one of those moment when two people realize that they like each other more than they know each other. This is nicer than the opposite situation, but more awkward. You try to remember the protocol for touching. You hate to gush, or presume to much, yet you are unwilling to let the moment pass without without some gesture