I dreamed of being a part of the stories—even terrifying one, even horror stories—because at least the girls in stories were alive before they died.

I try to see the dark and light in everything. This is my way of comforting myself when I am dealing with those emotions.

Metaphors are an interesting example of creating magic in prose.

Each of us has a family tree full of stories inside of us, Dirk thought. Each of us has a story blossoming out of us.

You must reach inside yourselves where I live like a story, not old, not young laughing at my own sorrow, weeping pearls at weddings, wielding a torch to melt sand into something clear and bright.

Same old boring boring story America can’t stop telling itself. What is this sicko fascination? Every book and movie practically has to have a little, right? But why do you think all those runaways are on the streets tearing up their veins with junk and selling themselves so they can sleep in the gutter? What do you think the alternative was at home?

In Mexico people wear hummingbird amulets around their necks to show they are searching for love. Here people pretend that they aren’t. Searching.