How weird was it that so many bits and pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. 'Perfect.

But when you're alone in the world, really alone, you have no choice but to be open to suggestions.

Say what you will, but you’re never prepared for the surprise attack.

The past did affect the present and the future, in ways you could see and a million ones you couldn't. Time wasn't a thing you could divide easily; there was no defined middle or beginning or end. I could pretend to leave the past behind, but it would not leave me.

Sometimes it seems safer to hold it all in, where the only person who can judge is yourself.

I think readers are just looking for things that maybe they recognize or can relate to in the books.

Its 75 Degrees! In December!