She pushed the gardener away and called for them. In her sleep she had seen love. It was poisoning. It was possessing. Devouring. Or it was seven pairs of boots climbing up the stairs to find her.

It's important to tell your story. It's important to listen.

It seems impossible that you can love one person so much, no matter what happens, no matter what they do.

Writing is literally transformative. When we read, we are changed. When we write, we are changed. It's neurological. To me, this is a kind of magic.

Welcome Beauty, banish fear.

Maybe he was real. Maybe I'd made him up. Either way, he didn't think I needed him anymore. Maybe he was right.

I dont know about happily ever after... but I know about happily, Weetzie Bat thought.