Welcome to the island of misfit toys.

I just listened to the music, and breathed in the day, and remembered things. Things like walking around the neighborhood and looking at the houses and the lawns and the colorful trees and having that be enough.

Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there.

Writing a novel is a lot like directing a movie because you are creating a world and a tone, you are creating a large canvas and all the details.

The perfect song on the perfect drive to make you feel infinite.

She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.

And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms.