It's always difficult to say goodbye, especially when one has spent a long time - literally years, in the case of a series - inside a character or two, suffering and celebrating with them.

I don't believe in getting clothes that just look pretty or that'll fall apart—they have to stand up to a lot of abuse.

Sometimes, as much as writing saves one’s own life, you cannot imagine how it will save another’s. This is another reason why it is important to do the work, over and over again. It is food, the kind a soul needs.

And you know, I believed him. What girl wouldn't?

Well, duh. You're cuter than she is." He said it like he might say, Grass is green or, Gravity works. Something warm opened up inside my chest. It was a nice feeling.

They all looked like a shampoo commercial, healthy and clear-skinned, perfectly proportioned, a group of handsome young men. Their clothes hung on them like they were glad to be gracing such supermodels.

The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.