In the end, you have to write like you're not afraid of the critics.

I guess I make things that need energy stronger. I'm like a walking battery.

He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

This is a love story. I never knew there were so many kinds of love or that love could make people do so many different things. I never knew there were so many different ways to say goodbye.

There doesn't seem like there should be an artful way to butcher a cow, but there is, and this is not it.

His wife's a brand of Christian that forbids a gathering that involves young women dancing in the streets but not races where men die

I'd found heaven and grabbed it as tightly as I could, but it was unraveling, an insubstantial thread sliding between my fingers, too fine to hold.