After spending most of her life scanning the horizon for slights and threats, genuine and imagined, she knew the real threat to her happiness came not from the dot in the distance, but from looking for it. Expecting it. Waiting for it. And in some cases, creating it. Her father had jokingly accused her of living in the wreckage of her future. Until one day she'd looked deep into his eyes and saw he wasn't joking. He was warning her.

A good novel is a good novel, pointe finale. And I think what I'm writing is exactly that.

I've seen enough successful writers who no longer seem to care when they are recognized with an award, and I think that's just tragic.

What are you afraid of? I'm afraid of not recognizing Paradise.

Where there is love there is courage, where there is courage there is peace, where there is peace there is God. And when you have God, you have everything.

It is very, very dangerous to come between a person and their beliefs.

But, like peace, comfort didn't come from hiding away or running away. Comfort first demanded courage.