Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.

Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. I tilted my head back. The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.

Oh, and the easiest way to make someone furious is to tell her to calm down.

Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.

People, particularly big men carrying big rifles, don't expect lip from a scrawny thing like me. They always look a bit dazed when they get it.

There’s no such thing as too much champagne. Though your head will try to tell you otherwise tomorrow.

You want a love story too? There's none to be had.