I guess if editing doesn't hurt, you're probably not doing it properly. I find it quite difficult. The hardest part is believing that it's actually working and getting rid of the doubt that always creeps in.

Even enemies were an inch away from friendship.

It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.

Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?

It was a style not of perfection, but warmth. Even mistakes had a good feeling about them

The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.

I guess that’s the beauty of books. When they finish they don’t really finish.