“It’s amazing how fast you can write when there’s a gun to your head.”

“It’s amazing how fast you can run when there’s a f**king rottweiler chasing you.”

“There’s a gun in your desk. It’s fully loaded.”“How do you know?” His frown deepens.“I checked it yesterday.”“I don’t want you messing with guns. I hope you put the safety back on.”I blink at him, momentarily stupefied. “Christian, there’s no safety on that revolver. Don’t you know anything about guns?”His eyes widen. “Um . . . no.”

“I think there’s no greater joy than completing a song out of thin air. It’s like inventing something, but it’s invisible, you know? It’s weird. It amazes me. You can send it out in the world, and that’s the joy. It’s like giving birth to all these songs and letting them go like they’re your kids.”

“My body is covered in marks, Cole.” Big deal. “Mine too, sweetheart.” She snorted. “Yours are war scars.” “Yours too, Christy. I waged war with others while you waged war with yourself. It’s the same. It’s just life; there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We both survived. This body tells its own story, and it’s an amazing story. You are amazing.”

“With fiction, there’s no reason why everything you write shouldn’t be amazing. Nobody’s stopping you from making up better stuff.”