What is this place?" "Nothing at all. Everywhere there is. Both at once?" Wereberry offered.

He felt like his own heart might stop beating just from acknowledging the concept. The sadness, the sorrow, and the loss, they were living things, funnily enough.

A single thought, he considered, could do all sorts of harm. Harm to what, he wasn't sure, but he identified it as harm.

He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he also refused to be a pessimist about this moment. Everything could go either way.

Without purpose, we're zombies aimlessly roaming the earth.

Not many people are really that meticulous with what they do, I suppose, but I'm just a control freak and terribly afraid of failure or regret. I work very hard on these things.

What’s the deal with the hair?” Curran tore his gaze from the book and grimaced. “Grows every flare. Can’t help it." We stared at each other. “Waiting for the Fabio joke,” he said.

I went to Floridita on Wardour Street when I was 18. All I could afford was pumpkin soup and a glass of champagne, but it was worth it.

I like costumes. I am always dressing up - I'm very English like that.

Nobody "becomes" a character. You can't act unless you are who you are.

When she was like this, the wildness of her barely contained, it was hard to believe she'd come into his pack Silent, her emotions blockaded behind so much ice, it had infuriated his wolf.

You cannot always control the powers-that-be. You just have to have faith and stand by the things you believe in.

A McQueen woman always has to feel powerful. She's never a girly girl, she's always a woman.

Words can make the illness a subject I can master, and not one that one simply emotes over.