“I take my hand back, like a leaf letting go. It hurts too much to hang on. So why does it hurt so much to let go?”

“My emotions swirl like leaves caught in the breath of a dust devil, and the only thing I can seem to hold onto is the anger.”

“My life's a tangle of past and present, like two separate puzzles with their pieces tumbled together. Nothing fits.”

“My sister don't talk much. When she does, it's only to me, in moth-winged whispers, and only when we're alone.”

“All words are pegs to hang ideas on.”

“A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”

“No doubt I shall go on writing, stumbling across tundras of unmeaning, planting words like bloody flags in my wake....”