The worst moment of one's life could be seared into the memory, brighter than any joy.
Stars got tangled in her hair whenever she played in the sky.
It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.
How much does your life have to suck to want the Apocalypse?
Your heart is not wrong. Your heart is your strength. You don't have to be ashamed.
When I turned to writing fantasy, and writing for young people, it was joyous. It was like discovering an underground lake of ideas that went on forever.