I feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isn’t some sinister force dragging me toward death. This time I know it’s my mother's hand, drawing me into her arms. And I go gladly into her embrace.

There's really no way to be perfect. Perfectionism is a silly trait to have, so in a lot of ways that inspired the world of 'Divergent,' in which everyone is striving toward that ideal and falling short of it.

Oh. I just assumed... That because I am so absorbed by him everyone must be too.

I see love developing from friendship. Common ground is a strong basis for friendship. My husband is my best friend and we have a lot in common even though we're admittedly different people. I think it evolves from how I see relationships working. You know, the opposites attract thing happens all the time, but so does the best friends thing. It's just a great kind of relationship in fiction.

I used to go outside every day and invent these elaborate worlds and scenarios in my head, and when I grew too old for playing pretend, I started to write everything down instead.

What thought or message would you put in a fortune cookie? "Stop reading this. Eat the cookie and live your life.

Okay, okay.” I set my hand on top of his and guide it to my chest, so it’s right over my heart. “Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it?” “Yes.” “Feel how steady it is?” “It’s fast.” “Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box.” I wince as soon as I’m done speaking. I just admitted to something. Hopefully he doesn’t realize that.