What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and world destruction?

When I write I pretend I'm telling a story to someone in the room and I don't want them to get up until I'm finished.

Ari smiled. The sun was shining, the weather was great, he was eating ice cream, and all his dreams were about to come true.

The receptionist looked us over, then went back to typing something incredibly urgent—like her résumé́ for another job.

I'm not a writer's writer. I'm not a craftsman. I could be, and that would be a one-book-a-year operation.

I hung my head, and I felt someone, Fang, gather me gently to him. My cheek rested on his shoulder, and my silent tears soaked his torn shirt.He felt warm and strong and heartbreakingly familiar. And at that moment, not a single thing in my life was certain, strong, or whole. Nothing. Least of all Fang.

Life is such a miracle, a series of small miracles.It really is, if you learn how to look at it with the right perspective.