Writing's a lot like cooking. Sometimes the cake won't rise, no matter what you do, and every now and again the cake tastes better than you ever could have dreamed it would.

“Amondó vagyok, egy város nem is város könyvesbolt nélkül. Lehet, hogy városnak …”

“I'm a mother," said her mother, in her foodless flat where the dust did not dar…”

“She wondered whether cats could all talk where she came from and just chose not…”

“Life is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal.”