When I was a kid, I was surrounded by girls: older sisters, older girl cousins just down the street... except for an older boy named Vito who threw rocks. Each year I would wish for a baby brother. It never happened.
Love is like breathing, you take it in and let it out.
I won't read novels while writing novels.
I cried because I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no feet.
Hardest thing: creating something out of nothing - the first draft is torturous.
Love comes in far more shapes and sizes than what the family-values crowd condones, of course.