We were willing to do so much for the people we loved, even if it meant hurting ourselves. Maybe that, in the end, was what love- all kinds- was really about.

It was hard to remember what the yard had looked like even twelve hours before, undisturbed and pristine. Like it takes so little to change something, but to make you forget the way it once was, as well.

How it seemed like you could see everything, but certain things were blocked out, hidden.

I think I'm too lazy a writer to do something like historical fiction. You have to do so much research. I just write what I know.

There was something so heavy about the burden of history, of the past. I wasn't sure I had it in me to keep looking back.

But that was the problem with having the answers. It was only after you gave them that you realized they sometimes weren't what people wanted to hear.

I feel like Twitter was tailor-made for me, because I can do short spurts all day long. I loved my blog, but doing daily, then thrice weekly entries was really time consuming. 140 characters is perfect.