“The imagination says listen to me. I am your darkest voice. I am your 4 a.m. voice. I am the voice that wakes you up and says this is what I'm afraid of. Do not listen to me at your peril.... The imagination is not our escape. On the contrary, the imagination is the place we are all trying to get to.”

“O Lord my God, tell me what you are to me. Say to my soul, I am your salvation. Say it so that I can hear it. My heart is listening, Lord; open the ears of my heard and say to my soul, I am your salvation. Let me run toward this voice and seize hold of you. Do not hide your face from me: let me die so that I may see it, for not to see it would be death to me indeed.”

“I walk beneath your pens, and am not what I truly am, but what you'd prefer to imagine me.”

“They say when you really love someone, you should be willing to set them free. So that is what I am doing. I will step back and you will move on. I will let you go. ... Your happiness means everything to me. I will listen for your voice in the distance. I will look at the moon. I will keep you in my pocket. I will carry your smile with me everywhere, like a warm and comforting glow.”

“What do you want?” I grumbled, not really sure if I was imagining his voice or not. “I’m not a figment of your imagination.” “Then how did you know what I was thinking if you’re not all in my mind? Besides, that’s just what a figment would say.” I scrunched up my face in a display of my skepticism”

“I am a writer. Imagining what someone would say or do comes to me as naturally as breathing.”