If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

Living in Sydney, I've taken the chance to start surfing again. One of my best memories of growing up is catching my first proper wave and surfing across it and my brother cheering at me from the shore.

I like to tell students, 'I didn't burst on to the literary scene.' I'm never good at things at the beginning. I was terrible at the start. I need to work and work.

The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.

Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.

Sometimes I just survive. But sometimes I stand on the rooftop of my existence, arms stretched out, begging for more.

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.