I feel like so much of what I'm doing is making a road where there is no road and inviting people on that road with me. It's scary. It's scary, but I can't listen to the voices that are saying form is the only way, or that there is only this kind of form or that kind of form.

I couldnt be a writer without hope. I think I became a writer because Im pretty optimistic.

Mama was always saying I was a brain snob, that I didn't like people who didn't think. I didn't know if that was snobby. Who wanted to walk around explaining everything to people all the time?

Fifteen. Sixteen was probably something, but fifteen - fifteen was a place between here and nowhere.

There's me in every character I put on the pages.

You're a part of me...You're in my heart. Forever and always, all right? —D

I'm always wondering if he'll return. Sometimes I pray that he doesn't. And sometimes I hope he will. I wish on falling stars and eyelashes. Absence isn't solid the way death is. It's fluid, like language. And it hurts so much...so, so much.