I now know that some people feel unhappiness the way others love: privately, intensely, and without recourse.

I don't know the nuts and bolts of writing. I studied medicine. I was a pre-med nerd. So everything I learned, I know about writing is very instinctive.

I opened my mouth, almost said something. Almost. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I had. But I didn’t.

The problem, of course, was that [he] saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can't love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little.

these random unkind moment that catch you wen you least expect them.

People say that eyes are windows to the soul.

All stories I write are compulsive. Anything I’ve ever written was because I don’t have a choice. I write stories because I can’t wait to tell it, I can’t wait to see how it ends.