But words are more powerful than anything.

I could almost hear the characters inside, murmuring and jostling, impatient for me to open the cover and let them out.

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

I know it is a bad thing to break a promise, but I think now that it is a worse thing to let a promise break you.

...Listen to your own thoughts and feelings very carefully, be aware of your observations, and learn to value them. When you're a teenager—and even when you're older—lots of people will try to tell you what to think and feel. Try to stand still inside all of that and hear your own voice. It's yours and only yours, it's unique and worth of your attention, and if you cultivate it properly, it might just make you a writer.

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.

He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.