She laughed so easily when she was happy. But also when she was sad.

Beauty was empty as a gourd, vain as a parakeet. But it had power. It smelled of musk and oranges and made you close your eyes in a prayer.

My house is modern, but I like my writing room to be old fashioned. I write on a little wooden secretary desk.

I'm always looking for something new and interesting to say. And it can't be something I'm directly experiencing.

What was beauty unless you intended to use it, like a hammer, or a key? It was just something for other people to use and admire, or envy, despise. To nail their dreams onto like a picture hanger on a blank wall. And so many girls saying, use me, dream me.

Who are you? the band sang. I tried to remember but I really couldn't say.

The best you'll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.