You see, the outcome of the battle is unimportant. What matters is the chaos, and the slaughter.

Until that moment she had never thought she could do it. Never thought she would be brave enough or scared enough, or desperate enough to dare.

Whatever's happening," she said, eventually, "it can all be sorted out." She saw the expression on my face then, worried. Scared even. And she said, "After pancakes.

I'm sure there's an alternate universe where I got to become a pulpy science fiction writer.

Rain in the graveyard, and the world puddled into blurred reflections.

You’re alive. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything.

I was the kind of person who knew what he wanted to do; I wanted to write, I wanted not to be in school, and I felt that university would just be spending another four years of my life before I could write.