“I will write things, he was thinking. I will write something meaningful and wonderful someday. I can do that. And I'll dedicate it to you because you're the first person who ever made me think I could.”

“Writing is not a great profession as a lot of writers proclaim. I write because this is something I can do. Another thing—very often I think a lot of writers write because they have failed to do other things. How many writers can’t drive? A lot. They’re not practical. They are not capable in everyday life.”

“We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing - an actor, a writer - I am a person who does things - I write, I act - and I never know what I'm going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun.”

“Do you think I'll ever be better at this?" I wondered, mostly to myself. "That my heart might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?""I really hope not," he said, a bit smug.”

“Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm? Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly? Write me how you look! Is it still the same? Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm? Write me how you are! Have you been spared? Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage? Write me what you're doing! Is it good? Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me? Freely, I've given you only my questions. And I hear the answers, how they fall. When you're tired, I can't carry it for you. If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat. And so now I leave the world No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.”

“Me, i'm going to write ass-kicking trans* characters. I think I might end up writing not a single thing that is "pure" by some people's standards. Just because, and because I can.”