Before I write the first page of a novel, I spend a long time creating detailed backgrounds for my characters. I imagine the experiences that have formed them, what makes them happy, angry, fearful, and what they yearn for.

So are you bisexual?” I had asked, and Todd had laughed at my insistence on label. “I guess I'm bipossible,” he had said.

Sometimes I'm not nice for a reason. It's a way to find out what someone's made of.

Of all the things he wants," Liberty said, "money's the easiest to get.

I have come to realize you can never be truly happy unless you've known some sorrow.

Hell was waking up alone, the sheets wet with your tears and your seed, knowing the woman you had dreamed of would never come back to you.

What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you." "Why? Was kissing me that bad?" A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.