My Children Were All Made From Paper

Desperate? So What? I'm Desperate, Too!" Fenoglio Snapped At Her. "my Story Is Foundering In Misfortune, And These Hands Here," He Said Holding Them Out To Her, "don't Want To Write Anymore! I'm Afraid Of Words Meggie! 'once They Were Like Honey, Now They're Poison, Pure Poison! But What Is A Writer Who Doesn't Love Words Anymore? What Have I Come To? This Story Is Devouring Me, Crushing Me, And I'm It's Creator!

If You Keep Pretending You're In That Book, It Will Make You Not Want To Live In The Life You're In.

So It's Happened, I Kept Thinking, You're In The Middle Of A Story Exactly As You've Always Wanted, And It's Horrible. Fear Tastes Quite Different When You're Not Just Reading About It, Meggie, And Playing Hero Wasn't Half As Much Fun As I'd Expected.

So What? All Writers Are Lunatics!

Sometimes, When You’re Sad You Don’t Know What To Do, It Helps To Be Angry. But Then The Tears Come Back Again All The Same, And You Fall Asleep With The Salty Taste Of Them On Your Lips.