The world was an awfully large place and it wasn't easy to find a person who'd gone missing sixty years earlier, even if that person was oneself.

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.

That, my dear, is what makes a character interesting, their secrets.

Mother didn't understand that children aren't frightened by stories; that their lives are full of far more frightening things than those contained in fairy tales.

I'd pretty much given up hope of being published, so I just wrote the book I wanted to read.

Thinking of nothing. Trying to think of nothing. Thinking of everything.

They say everyone needs something to love.