I hadn't said goodbye. It had been easier, like always, to just disappear, sparing myself the messy details of another farewell. Now, my fingers hovered over my track pad, moving the cursor down to his comment section before I stopped myself. What was the point? Anything I said now would only be an afterthought. Elizabeth who goes by her middle name

And while it is hard enough to take away something that makes a person happy it's even more difficult when it seems like it's the only thing.

Then what are you like, Annabel?" he shot back. "A liar, like you told me that first day? Come on. That was the biggest lie of all.

I am coming to terms with the fact that loving someone requires a leap of faith, and that a soft landing is never guaranteed.

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

Even if you couldn't see it beneath the surface, molecules were bonding, energy pushing up slowly, as something worked do hare, all alone to grow.

I don't talk about my books while I'm writing them: not even my husband knows what a novel's about until it's done.