What time is it in New York?" He shook his head. "An hour later than it is here. The earth simply has to revolve, Eve, however annoying it is for you." "It can revolve all it wants. I just don't see why people can't settle on the same time.

I’ve been happy alone and I’ve been unhappy without you. I never wanted to depend on anyone, or to let myself care so much I could be made unhappy. But I depend on you and I love you.

I didn't get fired." "You didn't punch your boss and get fired from the Tribune? That's what I heard." "I punched what could loosely be called a colleague for cribbing my notes on a story and since the editor–who happened to be the asshole's uncle–took his word over mine, I quit." "To write books. Is it fun?" "I guess it is." "I bet you killed the asshole in the first one you wrote." "You'd be right. Beat him to death with a shovel. Very satisfying.

Actually, I find it great fun to develop family series with lots of characters.

Action, reaction, motivation, emotion, all have to come from the characters. Writing a love scene requires the same elements from the writer as any other.

Potholes and bumps? Welcome to the world. Every road gas them. They're there to be navigated, avoided, driven over, or through to the other side. Don't keep driving into the pothole.

Why?” Eve leaned forward. “Sincerely, I’ve always wanted to know why anyone buys multiple pairs of shoes at a time.” “If I have to explain it, the joy is lost.