She says there are stories everywhere and that people who wait for the right one to come along before setting pen to paper end up with very empty pages.

Percy climbed the first step, then the next, remembering the thousands of times she'd run through the door, in a hurry to get to the future, to whatever was coming next, to this moment.

Adults weren’t supposed to understand their children and you were doing something wrong if they did.

If you don't stop apologizing, you're going to convince me you've done something wrong.

She hadn't wanted to be loved carefully, only well.

My fingers positively itched to drift at length along their spines, to arrive at one whose lure I could not pass, to pluck it down, to inch it open, then to close my eyes and inhale the soul-sparking scent of old and literate dust.

People might think writing is a hard business, but it's nowhere near acting.