I was bright, and I could use that as a weapon: words can wound, whatever those sticks and stones sayings claim about them never hurting, and I could use them if I had to.

This was the void. Not blackness, not nothingness. This was what lay beneath the thinly painted scrim of reality.

Diana used to tell me she had a travel jinx, something I only really started to believe when the plane door fell off.

And he waited. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like a small forever.

Oh- my twitchy witchy girl I think you are so nice, I give you bowls of porridge And I give you bowls of ice Cream. I give you lots of kisses, And I give lots of hugs, But I never give you sandwiches With bugs In.

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes. Because if you are making mistakes...you're Doing Something.

Read the books you love, tell people about authors you like, and don’t worry about it.