Not only was he not mad, but he was a musician, and my favorite men had always been musicians or writers or anything that involved the creative process and behaving like tortured artists. ... I found financial insecurity a great aphrodisiac.

I'm trying..." How could I put it? "I'm trying to get far enough down the line so that I can remember." I stopped, then continued: "so that I can remember without the pain killing me" And the days were stacking up. And weeks. And months. It was now almost the middle of June and he'd died in February, but I still felt like I'd just woken from a horrible dream, that I was suspended in that stunned, paralyzed state between sleep and reality where I was grasping for, but couldn't get a handle on normality.

One day we'll all be dead, and none of this will matter" -The Brightest Star in the Sky.

I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.

Chick Lit uses humor to reflect life back to us. It's a very comforting genre, and it's the first time our generation has had a voice. It's a very important genre for all of those reasons.

Minsk! How pissed-off that sounded! It was great. You could scare the bejayzus out of someone if you said it right.

My truth is that what doesn't kill you makes you weaker rather than stronger, although it makes you wiser.