eskimos maybe? believed stars were holes in the sky where people who died could peek through at you

I learned a lot that night. For example, that part of being the magician's assistant means coming face-to-face with illusion. That invisibility is really just knotting your body in a certain way and letting the black curtain fall over you. That people don't vanish into thin air; that when you can't find someone, it's because you've been misdirected to look elsewhere.

Fiction is like that, once it is released into the world: contagious, persistent. Like the contents of Pandora's box, a story that's freely given can't be contained anymore. It becomes infectious, spreading from the person who created it to the person who listens, and passes it on.

Bleeding heart, he’d called her. Well. He should know. He’d been the first to rip it to pieces.

One person's trauma is another's loss of innocence.

Stem cell research has become such a polarizing issue in America... and I wanted to bring it down to the personal level, instead of the political.

To me, a good event is governed by the audience.