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.

Close a door, and you'd still feel a breeze through the window.

The best place to cry is on a mother's arms.

Instead of doing the best thing, we sometimes have to settle for the rightest thing.

It takes two people to make a lie work: the person who tells it, and the one who believes it.

Kids think with their brains cracked wide open; becoming an adult, I've decided, is only a slow sewing shut.

We dont have to accept each others beliefs..but we do have to accept each others right to believe them.