we love what we love and who we love who we love and why we love why we love and find a falling shoelace knotted and strung between the fingers of strangers

Nothing in my life is a coincidence.

My life had taken a stranger turn than I could've ever imagined. What was I doing on this path? Where was I headed really? Who was I to take on a battle between powers I didn't understand— armed with a runaway cat, a uniquely bad drummer, a pair of garden shears, and an Ovaltine-drinking teen Galileo? To save a girl who didn't want to be saved?

I want you here. I don't care if it's a hundred degrees and every blade of grass dies. Without you, none of that matters to me.

The beginning of a book is always the hardest part for me. I'm a Chapter 3 kind of writer, which means I naturally start at Chapter 3.

There’s something about sitting alone in the dark that reminds you how big the world really is, and how far apart we all are. The stars look like they’re so close, you could reach out and touch them. But you can’t. Sometimes things look a lot closer than they are.

The guys were going down one road, and I was going down another.