“Oh, Warrior. Please don't cry every time I kiss you.”

“Why do I always have to remind you to look to where the danger waits, Warrior. Sheesh, what would you do without me?“Uh, not be a murderous psycho?”Very funny.”

“A Searcher, a Wolf Son and a Warrior,” she announced. I suppressed a laugh. I almost expected her to say “walked into a bar.”

“As writers, we feel things deeper than other people, we hurt more, we love bigger, we cry harder and we smile wider. This is the essence, the fuel, to what we do.”

“There is no feeling that is comparable to that of being truly lost. I don’t mean lost in the woods, or desert, but lost in the way that only can happen internally. Lost to the deepest,blackest pit of your soul, clinging to ghosts of past times, when you thought you knew who andwhat you were. When this happens, you have two choices; you can give in to your darkest inclinations,and accept what you are, or you can fight, knowing that it is a losing battle, that the good halfof your soul is strong, but can never erase the bad part.”

“Maybe I should punch myself in the face and see if you scream.”

“I hate it when you do that,” he said.“What?”A pause. “Put clothes on.”