Kate Ryan

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.