They weren't true stories; they were better than that.

The sisters were glad to be together. They had the easy sort of relationship where they didn't have to speak to be understood.

Only her death could prove her innocence; a circle of impossible, deathly judgement.

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.

I could hardly get a boy to look at me. All right, they'd look, they'd even take me out, but no one asked for a second date. I was too nasty, a real wise guy, and all the boys could tell what my rotten disposition was. Deep down, I wanted a commitment with a capital C. To get anywhere with me, a boy would have to sign his undying loyalty with his own blood.

She liked to disappear, even when she was in the same room as other people. It was a talent, as it was a curse.

He has the ability to catch someone by the way that he looks at her, and make her wish he would go on looking.