It's easy to get published once you have written a really good book and the hard part, 99 percent of what you need to worry about, is really finishing it.

Because hope comes from in you, and wishes are just magic.

Love makes a person do strange things.

This, she thought, isn’t just for today. It’s for everything. For the heartache that still felt like a punch in the gut each time it struck, fresh as new, at unpredictable moments; for the smiling lies and the mental images she couldn’t shake; for the shame of having been so naive. For the way loneliness is worse when you return to it after a reprieve—like the soul’s version of putting on a wet bathing suit, clammy and miserable.

What does true even mean when it comes to a face? Only souls are true, and when you spill them to the air they melt away.

I want to build spires in their minds and dance shadows through like marionettes, chased by whispers and hints of the unspeakable.

You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?