When I am writing anything in general, I just want to tell the story that exists in my head; I don't try to write a parable or make a point.

Every star has been set in the sky. We mistakenly think they were put there for us.

There are so many of us, so many girls. The world wants us for our wombs or our bodies, or it doesn't want us at all.

In another time, in another place, I wonder who they might have been.

We figure out what death means when we're born, practically, and we live our whole lives in some kind of weird denial about it.

I think he's beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.

There is a dark place calling to me, but I will not go just yet. I know I can't return from it.