If I ever leave this place- I'll make sure I'm better HERE first.

At first, all is black and white. Black on white. That's where I'm walking, through pages. These pages. Sometimes it gets so that I have one foot in the pages and the words, and the other in what they speak of.

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.

Liesel crossed the bridge over the Amper River. The water was glorious and emerald and rich. She could see the stones at the bottom and hear the familiar song of water. The world did not deserve such a river.

It's not a big thing, but I guess it's true--big things are often just small things that are noticed.

Sometimes I think my papa is an accordion. When he looks at me and smiles and breathes, I hear the notes.

Handfuls of frosty water can make almost anyone smile, but it cannot make them forget.