An attribute of Rosa Hubermann, she was a good woman for a crisis.

...there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness, too. That was writing.

She let herself love me for three minutes. Can three minutes last forever? I ask myself, but already know the answer. Probably not, I reply. But maybe they last long enough.

You should know it yourself- a young man is still a boy, and a boy sometimes has the right to be stubborn.

Failure has been my best friend as a writer. It tests you, to see if you have what it takes to see it through.

The city buildings in the distance are holding up the sky, it seems.

You see, to me, for just a moment, despite all of the colors that touch and grapple with what I see in this world, I will often catch an eclipse when a human dies. I've seen millions of them. I've seen more eclipses than I care to remember