I've found in my own life that if my writing isn't going well, not much else will. It is the one constant, the key to everything else.

I was worn out, broken: He had taken almost everything. But he'd been all I'd had, all this time. And when the police led him away, I pulled out of the hands of all these loved one, sobbing, screaming, everything hurting, to try and make him stay.

But I think, personally, that it would be worse to have been alone all that time. Sure, maybe I would have protected my heart from some things, but would that really have been better? To hold myself apart because I was too scared that something might no be forever?

The worst thing you can do if you miss or need someone is let them know it.

She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.

If you didn't always have to choose between turning away for good or rushing in deeper. In the moments that it really counts, maybe it's enough - more than enough, even - just to be there.

I was bored. Sad. Lonely. It was only a matter of time before I cracked.