He was cold, standing in a wood, talking to a big black bird who was currently brunching on Bambi.

You don't want to ask after the health of anyone, if you're a funeral director. They think maybe you're scouting for business.

This was beyond a joke. This had moved beyond foolishness, slipped over the line into genuine 24 karat Jesus-Christ-I-fucked-up-bigtime territory.

Writing is flying in dreams. When you remember. When you can. When it works. It’s that easy.

She prays she's bought another clutch of days. We save our lives in such unlikely ways.

The moment that you feel, just possibly, you are walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind, and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself…That is the moment, you might be starting to get it right.