Writing a novel is like building a wall brick by brick; only amateurs believe in inspiration.

Maturity is reached the day we don't need to be lied to about anything.

Each man's death is fated from the beginning of time.

When it was over, it was not really over, and that was the trouble.

The Queen is coming to reclaim her girls.

You can't please everybody. I give up. I'm not trying to. I don't care. Leave me alone with that.

Notice that tearing oneself out of the insensible state is the opposite of remaining in it; the man who is beneficent from duty nevertheless acts with feelings, if not with empirical inclinations.

The abuse dies in a day; but the denial slays the life of the people and entombs the hope of the race.

It's not a problem taking out someone who wants your people dead. That's not a problem at all.

I never thought I'd refer to myself as a hot mess.

The gospel impacts the way we do our work in ways that hopefully brings a greater flourishing to our world.

There's blood, a taste I remember. It tastes of orange popsicles, penny gumballs, red licorice, gnawed hair, dirty ice.

I would say that, apart from being a writer, I have also always been very conscious of the idea of a 'world elsewhere'.

It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.