I wondered about the explorers who'd sailed their ships to the end of the world. How terrified they must have been when they risked falling over the edge; how amazed to discover, instead, places they had seen only in their dreams.

I think this is every mother's worst nightmare - something dreadful happening to her child.

The act of reading is a partnership. The author builds a house, but the reader makes it a home.

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.

I try really hard to ask people to take a look at their bookshelves. Are there female writers on it? Gay writers? Writers of color? There should be.

Sometimes I think the human heart is just a simple shelf. There is only so much you can pile onto it before something falls off an edge and you are left to pick up the pieces.

The problem isn’t with rock lyrics, it’s with the fabric of this society itself.