At the core of this desire is the belief that everything can be perfect.

Because that's the thing about mean people. They make you think that the world will never work, that there are divides that you will fall into if you approach. It takes a whole lot of good people to fill in the breach created by a single mean one.

It's a fine line between love and stalking.

It was a mistake, you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.

Beautiful sadness is a myth. Sadness turns our features to clay, not porcelain.

It's almost scary how amateur I am when it comes to musicals - I'm a musical goer, but I am not as obsessed with musicals as perhaps some of my theatrical friends are.

My main piece of advice would be don't worry about being published - just write a really good book, but also don't be afraid to write a bad book. Give yourself permission to fail, and don't be afraid.

I try to convince myself that it’s the alcohol talking. But alcohol can’t talk. It just sits there. It can’t even get itself out of the bottle.

I know I should just leave. Just go. Because there’s a point where a mistake turns into a big mistake, and I should probably come to my senses before I get there.

And I’m moved, it’s so beautiful. Not what I wrote, but to have it given back like this. To have her remember the words and the tune. To hear it in her voice.