I Thought You Couldn't Make It Here

Are We Going To Portland?" I Asked. "or Multnomah Falls?" He Smiled At Me. "go To Sleep." I Waited Three Seconds. "are We There Yet?" His Smile Widened, And The Last Of The Usual Tension Melted From His Face. For A Smile Like That, I'd...do Anything.

Mercy," Said My Mother Thoughtfully, "you Never Told Me Your Werewolf Neighbor Was Quite That Hot.

Don’t Fuss. I Love You Just As You Are, Mercy. I Don’t Need To Swallow You Whole, I Don’t Need To Be In Your Head At All Times. I Just Need To Know That You’re There.

The Cool Thing About Writing Is That There Is Really Never A Typical Day. Sometimes I Get A Rhythm Going And Head Off To Work Every Morning And Come Home At Night. Sometimes I'll Write For Two Days Straight And Then Be Utterly Blank For The Next Two.

You Don’t Have The Courage Of A Half-bred Mongrel.