One of my rules is never explain. A writer is a lot like a magician, if you explain how the trick works then a lot of the magic turns mundane.

There had to be a circle of Hell where you were eternally fourteen, eternally in junior high. One of the lower circles.

Love is too precious to be ashamed of.

I wasn't crying, my eyes were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombies all over my toys. Jesus.

Ma petite is not a subtle woman. Unless you say it, she will not understand it.

A certain type of man, when he loves for the first time, his love is not really love, it is possession. Possessions don't have rights or feelings; they are something to owned and controlled. He had spent more than a year trying to do just that, and failing.

There's Only so much emotional super glue in a person's soul, that everything just stays broken.