I love the structural part of the writing process..

Ah, well. Life's too short for moderation, wouldn't you say?.

Nighttime is different. Things are otherwise when the world is black. Insecurities and hurts, anxieties and fears grow teeth at night. p493.

Life could be cruel enough these days without the truth making it worse..

Cassandra always hid when she read, though she never quite knew why. It was as if she couldn't shake the guilty suspicion that she was being lazy, th….

No two people will ever see or feel things in the same way, Merry. The challenge is to be truthful when you write. Don't approximate. Don't settle fo….

Memory is a cruel mistress with whom we all must learn to dance..

It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?.

Reluctance to begin is quick to befriend procrastination. . . ..

He had the vague sense of standing on a threshold, the crossing of which would change everything..

A true friend is a light in the dark. Viven.

It's a funny thing, character, the way it brands people as they age, rising from within to leave its scar..

There’s something about hospital walls; though only made of bricks and plaster, when you’re inside them the noise, the reality of the teeming city be….

Will history remember us, I wonder? I do hope so - to imagine that one might do something, touch an event somehow, & thereby transcend the bounds of ….

Nell was not one for friends and had never hidden her distaste for most other humans, their neurotic compulsion for the acquisition of allies..

Mother didn't understand that children aren't frightened by stories; that their lives are full of far more frightening things than those contained in….

It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and t….

Hope's one thing, expectation's quite another..

Better to lose oneself in action than to wither in despair..

Hope, how she had grown to hate the word. It was an insideious seed planted inside a person's soul, surviving covertly on little tending, then flower….

Percy climbed the first step, then the next, remembering the thousands of times she'd run through the door, in a hurry to get to the future, to whate….