Powerlessness and silence go together.
Maybe that's what love is, I thought: it's being pissed off.
The heart with letters on it shining like a light bulb through the trim hole painted in the chest, art history.
Come away with me, he said, we will live on a desert island. I said, I am a desert island. It was not what he had in mind.
I didn't much like it, this grudge-holding against the past.
Don’t sit down in the middle of the woods. If you’re lost in the plot or blocked, retrace your steps to where you went wrong. Then take the other road. And/or change the person. Change the tense. Change the opening page.