You might question a winkle - a feeling that came to you right out of the blue - but you didn’t question knowing.

There may be fairies, there may be elves, but God helps those who help themselves.

People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... and I keep it in a jar on my desk.

I changed it. I had to. Do you know why?" She studied him, her eyes grave. "Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present.

Was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?

Rage-the biggest, truest rage of her adult life-had invaded her like a fever, but it wasn't like any fever she had known previously. It circulated like weird serum, cold on the right side of her body, then hot on the left, where her heart was. It seemed to come nowhere near her head, which remained clear.

And I guess you judge how well you're doing by how well you sleep at night... and what your dreams are like.