It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.

The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole. . .

Because you don't learn anything unless you can find the patience to read. TV takes that away from you. It robs you from your mind.

Have faith, Ed, all right?' I search the coffee mug, but there's none in there.

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.

Somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces.

She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.