It was as hysterical as a woman having a hot flash.

I tend to scare myself.

JK Rowling created seven Horcruxes. She put a part of her soul in every book and now her books will live forever

I was built with a love of the night and the unquiet coffin.

The loss of memory isn't always the problem; sometimes--maybe even often--it's the solution.

The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor.

I realized the shells were talking in a voice I recognized. I should have; it was my own. Had I always known that? I suppose I had. On some level, unless we're mad, I think most of us know the various voices of our own imaginations. And of our memories, of course. They have voices, too. Ask anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dream. Ask anyone who blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red). Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.