Must protect my little pockets of happiness.

At this moment, the story in his head was perfect. He also knew from experience that it would degenerate the second he started typing, because such was the nature of writing.

Sometimes when you get older — and I’m not talking about you, I’m talking generally, because everyone ages differently — things you think on and wish on start to seem real. And then you believe them, and before you know it they’re part of your history, and if someone challenges you on them and says they’re not true — why, then you get offended because you can’t remember the first part. All you know is that you’ve been called a liar.

I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.

Being the survivor stinks.

The only thing that makes me crazier than writing is not writing.

When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.