I am haunted by the ghost of my father, I think that should allow me to quote Hamlet as much as I please.

I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held. Trying to control what cannot be controlled. I am tired of denying myself what I want for fear of breaking things I cannot fix. They will break no matter what we do.

I suppose there will never be a lack of things to say, of stories to be told and shared.

I couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what I wanted to be real.

I suggest you keep your distance from her and concentrate on your own work.” “I’m in love with her.” “I am sorry to hear that,” he says. “It will make the challenge a great deal more difficult for you.” “We have been playing at this for more than a decade, when does it end?” “It ends when there is a victor.

It’s said that All Hallows’ Eve is one of the nights when the veil between the worlds is thin - and whether you believe in such things or not, those roaming spirits probably believe in you, or at least acknowledge your existence, considering that it used to be their own. Even the air feels different on Halloween, autumn-crisp and bright.

And now, I'm a best selling author, a different sort of fairy tale that I still sometimes wonder when I'll wake up from.