I feel as if when you love a book it becomes a part of you whether you have it on your shelves or not.

She was so busy forgetting, she couldn't take a single step into the future.

Love ambushed you, it lay in wait, dormant for days or years. It was the red thread, the peach stone, the kiss, the forgiveness. It came after you, it escaped you, it was invisible, it was everything.

What was a rose but the living proof of desire, the single best evidence of human longing and earthly devotion. but desire could be twisted,after all, and Jealousy was the name of the rose that did well in arid souls.

Pride is a funny thing; it can make what is truly worthless appear to be a treasure.

My sorrow is I used to read all the time and now, as a writer, I don't have the time to read.

Never look at other people's bad fortune,' my mother said. 'If you do, it will come back to find you instead of its rightful owner.