quotables . . .
non-fiction . . .
Writing a book is like visiting an amusement park. Thrilling at first, bloody exhausting by the end, but so very worth the ride.
You know it's going to be a rough day when you can't find your pants . . . because you are WEARING your pants.
Terrible things will always be done in the name of wonderful things. Like Hot Pockets in the name of pizza.
Following your heart is a great idea if you have a wise, clever heart.
We’re all born wearing glasses--the lenses through which we perceive and interpret the world. Stories help us borrow new ones.
I ate a Dorito. Singular. Just one.
fiction . . .
The dirt washes off but the words don’t. The ink sinks into me like a stain. I’m paper, just paper. Thin. Fragile. Temporary.
Swords are heavy and cold, but they're all magic. Every damn one. I'm not a girl anymore; I'm a giant. Swords can make you tall.
He's the sort of person who thinks the dark ages must have been super fun on account of all the shadow puppet opportunities.
Her breath smelled like cough medicine when she told me. That's what sorrow smells like now—cherry flavored cough drops.
Death was a slow magic. She took his atoms--one by one by one--and cracked them between her fingers.
We draw straight lines between the fire of the stars, because we can't bear the chaos of their burning.
The trees stole the wind from her hair, tambourine leaves shaking their brittle music. Laugh-happy and sky-bright, she danced.