Life would be a lot easier if conversations were rewindable and erasable, like videos. Or if you could instruct people to disregard what you just said, like in a courtroom.

You're so narrow-minded! You live in the same village you grew up in, you run the family business, you're buying a nursery down the road... you're practically still in the womb. So before you lecture me on the way to live my life, try living one of your own, OK?

If you want something you can't afford, think what else that money could buy: a week's groceries, a month's rent, or a weekend away. That will put things into perspective.

To have someone who never makes a mistake, never finds her personal life in disarray, never worries about work-life balance? I think that would be unreal. What Im writing is real.

Except...I do. Of course I do. Because as his hands gently cup my waist, I don't make a sound. As he swivels me around to face him, I don't make a sound. I don't need to. We're still talking. Every touch he makes, every imprint of his skin is like another word, another thought, a continuation of our conversation. And we're not done yet. Not yet.

The great thing about being a novelist is that you organize your own day.

You can't just switch off your feelings because the other person did.