When the door opens, I realize that the only thing worse than waiting is the moment you realize a decision has been made.

It makes Faith think of a hammock in their yard, a web of rope that she thought would unravel the first time she leaned back on it, but that managed to support her all the same.

When you love someone, you don't see parts of him you don't like.

Where you come from does matter -- but not nearly as much as where you are headed.

My first job was as an assistant in the local library. Self fulfilling prophecy?

The first question she was asked was What do you do? as if that were enough to define you. Nobody ever asked you who you really were, because that changed. You might be a judge or a mother or a dreamer. You might be a loner or a visionary or a pessimist. You might be the victim, and you might be the bully. You could be the parent, and also the child. You might wond one day and heal the next.

The world just feels different for those of us who come alive after dark. It's more fragile and unreal, a replica of the one everyone else inhabits.