Maybe the reason I've never died in this story is that I've never had something worth dying for before.

The woman who opens the door has a blue stain on her shirt and dark hair wound into a messy knot and the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. They're pale, like a lioness's, nearly golden, but they also look like they've done their fair share of crying, and we all know that a sky with clouds in it is much more interesting than one that doesn't have any.

My favorite part of any event is a Q&A. I do get asked a lot of the same questions but every now and then someone surprises me - and I LOVE that.

When you’re hurting deeply, you go inward.

History could hover, like a faint perfume or a memory stamped on the back of one's eyelids.

All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone else's life would not have been as rich without us here.

I wondered why the head could move so swiftly while the heart dragged its feet.