In the end, though, I did not kill my sister. She did it all on her own. Or at least this is what I tell myself.

You know how sometimes, your life is so perfect you’re afraid for the next moment, because it couldn’t possibly be quite as good? That’s what it felt like.

And he made love to her, offering his body in both tenderness and anger, unsure which was the best way to pass her bits of his soul so that she could patch her own with it

Writing is grunt work - you need to have self-motivation, perseverance, and faith... talent is the smallest part of it.

Just because it's fiction doesn't mean it's any less true.

She's not classically beautiful, but somehow that only makes her more interesting.

Whether or not belive in Fate comes down to one thing: who you blame when something goes wrong. Do you think it's your fault - that if you'd tried better, worked harder, it wouldn't have happened? Or do you just chalk it up to circumstance? I know poeple who'll hear about the people who died, and will say that it was God's will. I know people who'll say it was bad luck. And then there's my personal favorite: They were just in the wrong place at hte wrong time. Then again, you could say the same thing about me, couldn't you?