I paint very messy. I throw paint around. So when I let myself do the same sort of thing with my writing, and I would just write and write and write and revise, that's when I found my rhythm in writing.

Is magic not enough to live for?

...have a theory that she is in love with the dream of someone and not an actual person.

The night that seemed endless hours before is now slipping through your fingers, ticking by as it falls into the past and pushes you towards the future.

I think looking forward will be better than looking back.

I'm an emotional sort of person in general and I have a vivid imagination, so I feel the whole spectrum of emotion strongly when I write.

Each of them always gravitating toward the other. Yet still they do not touch.