Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.

My mother was a reader, and she read to us. She read us Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde when I was six and my brother was eight; I never forgot it.

Sometimes [...] real love is silent as well as blind.

The most important things are the hardest to say

Later, going home, I realized they didn't look alike at all; what made them seem to was the aftermath of stress and the lingering of sorrow. It's strange how pain marks our faces, and makes us look like family.

Adults are the real monsters.

If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.