No fruit dies so vile and offensive a death as the banana.
Sadness was so claustrophobic.
I don't think you can write according to a set of rules and laws; every writer is so different.
Writing, for me, means humility. It’s a process that involves fear and doubt, especially if you’re writing honestly.
Why couldn't she be part of that family? rent a room in someone else's life.
She'd have to propel herself into the future by whatever means possible or she'd be trapped forever in a place whose times had already passed.