Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.

He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.

Its impossible to control the reception of your work - the only thing you can control is the experience of writing itself, and the work you create.

Grief, it seemed, was a physical place.

It's funny how things seem different, suddenly.

Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.

I love to swim, and I love being near water.