When I was 11 or 12, I was really bored with everything on my summer reading list. It was all happy, middle-grade kinds of books. I was getting frustrated, because I liked to read. My mother went to the library and got me a copy of 'The Other Side of Midnight' by Sidney Sheldon. It was my first adult book.

You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.

There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, "Go.

I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness.

There’s a limit to how much living can be done in a life without freedom.

Maybe it is desperation. Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love.

The months fall to shards at my feet.