There are certain prehistoric things that swim beyond extinction.

I would love to travel around the world working for a travel company taking students abroad on cultural immersion trips.

When you're a kid, it's hard to tell the innocuous secrets from the ones that will kill you if you keep them.

Much of the way books get classified has to do with marketing decisions. I think it's more useful to think of literary books and sci-fi/fantasy books as existing on a continuum. To oppose them, to suggest that one category excludes the other, always feels bogus to me. The great Leonard Michaels line is "I wanted proximity to darkness, strangeness"? That's what I'd say I want from a book, regardless of where it falls on the fantastical spectrum - that suspense connected to a particular human character, rather than just some mechanized plot.

My older sister has entire kingdoms inside of her, and some of them are only accessible at certain seasons, in certain kinds of weather.

I swim with all my strength. No superhuman surge, or pony heroics; it's just me at my most desperate.

"I'm not going anywhere," she told me that night. But until we are old ladies-a cypress age, a Sawtooth age-I will continue to link arms with her, in public, in private, in a panic of love.