And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don't have genuine souls.

My dad had limitations. That's what my good-hearted mom always told us. He had limitations, but he meant no harm. It was kind of her to say, but he did do harm.

I'm all for whatever transitions the book properly to a movie.

I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way.

I often don't say things out loud, even when I should. I contain and compartmentalize to a disturbing degree: In my belly-basement are hundreds of bottles of rage, despair, fear, but you'd never guess from looking at me.

A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.

There are no really new stories anymore.