If I could sum it up in 50 words, I wouldn't have needed to write a whole novel about it.

...hear rumors and go digging for the painful truth beneath the lovely lies. You believe you have a right to these things, but you don't. When someone tells you a piece of their life, they're giving you a gift, not granting you your due.

He hesitated, then lifted his head and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?” The question was more curious than accusatory. “No,” Bast said. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been tasting,” Bast said, emphasizing the word. “Tasting comes before drinking.

I needed to let them know they couldn't hurt me. I've learned that the best way to stay safe is to make your enemies think you can't be hurt.

Half of seeming clever is keeping your mouth shut at the right times.

But how awful would that be? How terrible to live surrounded by the stark, sharp, hollowness of things that simply were enough?

For me the really cool parts of being an author don't have anything to do with getting onto a bestseller list.