Writers are first and foremost observers. We lose ourselves in the watching and then the telling of the world we find. Often we feel on the fringes, in the margins of life. And that's where we belong. What you are a part of, you cannot observe.

The universe conspires to reveal the truth and to make your path easy if you have the courage to follow the signs.

Judgment is such a useful shield, isn't it? We can hide behind it, rise above others on its crest, keep ourselves safe and separate.

If I weren't a writer, I'd be a psychiatrist.

Isn't it funny how the people least impacted by tragedy are the most eager to move on?

There's nothing particularly dark in my past... I live in the light. My disposition is basically happy. I have a good life.

There have been plenty of chances to close my eyes and go back to the sleep of my life as it was, but I hadn't taken any of them. Do I wish now that I had? It's hard to answer that question, as the wraiths move closer.