It was a kiss from the past.

I am very selfish, really. I lived for love.

Then he gave her a kiss on the forehead that felt like a baptism and she wept like a baby.

Don’t romanticise your ‘vocation’. You can either write good sentences or you can’t. There is no ‘writer’s lifestyle’. All that matters is what you leave on the page.

When people use that stream of consciousness, it's kind of just a term they use for anything that looks slightly different on the page.

I used to take that God's-eye view as a comfort when I was a child. I'd think, "Well, we couldn't find the world meaningful at all if it weren't for death." Of course, that is the smuggest and most intolerable of all perspectives because I'm not suffering from the death or the pain.

The greatest lie ever told about love is that it sets you free.