She was smart and funny and vulnerable and just so goddamned beautiful, the kind of beautiful that was worth being shot down over.

Childhood feels so permanent, like it's the entire world, and then one day it's over and you're shoveling wet dirt onto your father's coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.

You're terrified of being alone. Anything you do now will be motivated by that fear. You have to stop worrying about finding love again. It will come when it comes. Get comfortable with being alone. It will empower you.

There are some people out there who don't wait for what come next. They decide what should come next and they go and make it happen.

We are injured and angry, scared and sad. Some families, like some couples, become toxic to each other after prolonged exposure.

That's the thing about life; everything feels so permanent, but you can disappear in an instant.

Novel writing, to me, is all about language: choosing your words, finding the characters within the words and just really agonizing over every word. It's really crafting this whole piece from nothing.