...they cupped their wings around their happiness and called it a world, though they both knew it was not a world, only a hiding place, which is a very different thing.

It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth.

Your heart is not wrong. Your heart is your strength. You don't have to be ashamed.

Be an unstoppable force. Write with an imaginary machete strapped to your thigh. This is not wishy-washy, polite, drinking-tea-with-your-pinkie-sticking-out stuff. It’s who you want to be, your most powerful self. Write your books. Finish them, then make them better. Find the way. No one will make this dream come true for you but you.

Once upon a time, an angel lay dying in the mist. And a devil knelt over him and smiled.

With the infinite patience of one who has learned to live broken, he awaited her return.

Love affair. Doesn't that sound so middle-aged? And also ill-fated. Like ill-fated is an understood prefix to love affair. Well, ill-fated is fine, as long as it's a meaty and fraught ill-fated love affair, not a pale and insipid one.