“Here I sit like a brainless robot writing the uncensored, chaotic, evil thoughts springing about in my temperamental female brain.”

“I near felt bad he choose to be so evil to me. I am a forgiving woman, but my pen... oh my wicked wicked hormonal she-pen.”

“You are my heart, my head, my spine-you are the beat thumping through every line, and that’s why I write–it’s the only time we can be side by side.”

“I write with my spine, create through my heart and defiant mind. Happy or not happy, it’s real, it’s living like blood, pen and paper. Hearts that wake up racing, wanting. Trading fear in for the hurt, the hard, the challenge, the change, the pain, the stuff that makes you grow bigger, stronger, better. Granting you the crazy, the genius, the ability, the power to change the world.”

“There’s nothing worse than writing. There’s nothing better than writing. It’s like the man you hate to love, love to hate and never really come to terms with any of the feelings.”

“...I know I’ve broken all the rules of all the games, that all the great players and best love calculators recommend that you play, if you want to make someone like you a lot. But that’s okay, because I give up. I’ve got my coffee sitting in my San Francisco cup, I’ve got Kona island and a working beating heart that’s not cold, hard, or numb—very workable and capable of loving, breaking, mending and repeating. So that’s just what I’ll do. Because I’m too tired. Too tired uping all nighting wasting my precious timing wishing it was your heart pumping, wanting me— like I used to want you.”

“I hope you stand there for me, even though I won’t be listening, I hope you speak like I am hearing, that’s the man you are to me, that’s the only man I want to keep here inside of me. That’s the man you can be, and that’s the man I will take with me.”