The inside of the old Camaro smelled like asphalt and desire, gasoline and dreams.

Don't give me that look. I'm not trying to find out who you are. I don't care who you are. I just want to know why it is you are the way you are.

I feel like I have so many stories basting in my mind, and they come busting out when they're ready.

How do you get 'feng shui' out of 'thoughtful'?

Crashing into the trembling void Stretching my hand to you Losing myself to frigid regret Is this fragile love A way To say Good-bye

I wanted a library like this...[] A cave of words that I'd made myself.

Maura had decided sometime before Blue's birth that it was barbaric to order children about, and so Blue had grown up surrounded by imperative question marks.