There are two magic acts I want to pull off when I write. One is creating a feeling that when you're inside a book, you believe everything you're reading even when you know it's not true. And the second is an extension of that, which is you know it's not true, you know it's not real, but you believe it anyway. And it's that believing of the story that isn't real that attracted me to writing and storytelling in general.

Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, and in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me.

I watch the beauty for as long as I can, then turn and face the rest of it.

It's my heart that is tired. A thirteen-year-old heart shouldn't feel like this.

I only know that all of those people would have sensed me that night, excluding the youngest of the children. I was the suggestion. I was the advice, my imagined feet walking into the kitchen and down the corridor.

When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.

You cannot be afraid, Read the book. Smile at it. It's a great book-the greatest book you've ever read.