When you don't fit in, you become superhuman. You can feel everyone else's eyes on you, stuck like Velcro. You can hear a whisper about you from a mile away. You can disappear, even when it looks like you're still standing right there. You can scream, and nobody hears a sound. You become the mutant who fell into the vat of acid, the Joker who can't remove his mask, the bionic man who's missing all his limbs and none of his heart. You are the thing that used to be normal, but that was so long ago, you can't even remember what it was like.

When I was little I bragged about my firefighting father: my father would go to heaven, because if he went to hell he would put out all the fires.

Lies were only as strong as the suckers that believed them.

Somewhere along the line, organized religion stopped being about faith, and started being about who had the power to keep the faith. You said that the purpose of religion was to bring people together. But does it, really? Or does it-knowingly, purposefully, and intentionally--break them apart?

Love was that way. You could not render it in black or white. It always came down to the strange, blended shades of grey.

When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself.

I don't have to live the lives of my characters to write about them. It's about really putting yourself in their shoes.