But words are more powerful than anything.

They leave things behind sometimes, the guests. A bottle of scent. A crumpled handkerchief. A pearl button that fell off a dress and rolled under a bed. And sometimes they leave other sorts of things. Things you can't see. A sigh trapped in a corner. Memories tangled in the curtains. A sob fluttering against the windowpane like a bird that flew in and can't get back out. I can feel these things. They dart and crouch and whisper.

Happiness was useless to me. It was heartache that filled my purse. What happy man has need of Shakespeare?

Why do you write?' Because I love words and stories so much. Because I would be grief stricken every day of my life if I couldn't write. Because I'm obsessed and compelled. Because I'd be utterly useless at anything else.

Because just for a few seconds, someone else hurts, too. For just a few seconds, I'm not alone.

Stop yelling. If everyone’s yelling, no one can be heard.

It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.