You Told Me Love Was Fickle And

I Have Had Affairs That Lasted Decades And Others That Lasted For Hours. I Have Loved Princesses And Peasants. And I Suppose They Loved Me, Each In Their Way.

The Fact That People Are Already Reading And Loving Something I Wrote Is Still Hard To Believe.

Like Stepping Into A Fairy Tale Under A Curtain Of Stars.

I Paint Very Messy. I Throw Paint Around. So When I Let Myself Do The Same Sort Of Thing With My Writing, And I Would Just Write And Write And Write And Revise, That's When I Found My Rhythm In Writing.

“nothing's Impossible,” Poppet Responds. She Smiles At Him And Jumps, Her Red Hair Trailing Out Behind Her As She Falls.