If a heart could break once, it shouldn't have been able to happen again.

He's so busy looking inside people to find the good that he misses the knife they're holding in their hand.

I bet it gets pretty lonely with only your ego for company.

The thing that scares me is that some part of me understands where they're coming from. They took everything from us, you know? Why shouldn’t we be able to take it back if we have the power to?

If you're going to knock down my suggestion, you'd better have one to replace it.

And people like you are the reason we have middle fingers.

I used to dream about turning back time, about reclaiming the things I'd lost and the person I used to be.

He's just like a stallion. Wild and kicking on the outside, but a heart soft as satin on the inside. Just waiting for the right girl to break him in.

You get a good review, and it’s like crack. You need another hit. And another. And another. I know authors are like Tinkerbell and generally need applause to survive, but it’s a slippery slope.

—I don't want to lose you —Then why are you the one that keeps letting go?

The darkest minds never fade in the afterlight.

In a world like this with no laws, no charter of human rights, it's the women who suffer. It's the women who learn what it is to be tough, not the men.

People die from hitting the wall, they hit it again and again......one moment it ends all and they die!

God is God, He is not tame and domesticated like we sometimes (try to) make Him.

Bin Laden was once targeted by President Clinton. President Clinton wanted to kill him but couldn't get him. Of course not, we all know what kind of aim Clinton has.

I am so grateful for all the love and support I've had from people around the world.

Can you stop your mother from singing to you? Who would do such a thing?

Summer is my favorite time to read mysteries.

I'm going to do an adaptation of the Italian film, Bread and Tulips. I really like that film.

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.