But to be perfectly frank, this childish idea that the author of a novel has some special insight into the characters in the novel ... it's ridiculous. That novel was composed of scratches on a page, dear. The characters inhabiting it have no life outside of those scratches. What happened to them? They all ceased to exist the moment the novel ended.

I wouldn’t have a career if it weren’t for independent bookstores.

I think that it's a universal urge to have our pain not be felt alone and to have our joys not be felt alone.

Dying is the last thing I would EVER do!

That's why people grow weary of listening to Dumpees obsess over their troubles: getting dumped is predictable, repetitive, and boring. They want to stay friends; they feel smothered; it's always them and it's never you; and afterward, you're devastated and their relieved; it's over for them and just starting for you.

I don't really want to be the costar of anyone's life.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.