There's a place for everything and everyone, you know. That is the mistake they make above. They think that only certain people have a place. Only certain kinds of people belong. The rest is waste. But even waste must have a place. Otherwise it will clog and clot, and rot and fester.

It was as though the darkness was a sheet of raw cookie dough and someone had just taken a cookie cutter and made a child-sized shape out of it.

Hunky Heroes, rescuing distressed women, captive princesses, and girls without wheels since 1684. p. 450

My heart is fluid and soaring. There's no longer any space between heartbeats.

Don't worry about what you're writing or whether it's good or even whether it makes sense.

Then I think of the dark, and the lights, and the roaring, and Juliet, and before I can think of anything else, I fight the final few steps to the door and step out into the cold, where the rain is still coming down like shards of moonlight, or like steel.

The flip side of freedom is this: When you're completely free, you're also completely on your own.