This is the fear that made fish crawl out onto dry land and evolve lungs, the fear that teaches us to run, the fear that makes us bury our dead.

I just want the pleasure of noticing these things at a safe distance.

The only person I really wanted to talk to about Augustus Water's death with was Augustus Waters.

Who would you die for? Who would you wake up at five forty-five in the morning for even though you don't even know why he needs you?

I am a giant squid of anger.

My responsibility is to try to tell true stories. To me a true story is always hopeful, but never simply, uncomplicatedly happy.

I'm not saying it was your fault. I'm saying it wasn't nice.