She was disappearing a little more each day, so thin, so frail, a wisp of smoke. One day she would surely vanish altogether, and there was no way to stop her.

I wasn't quite as certain that I knew her soul. When it came right down to it, I wasn't sure she knew me either.

We are only an instant, that's true. But we are eternal.

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

Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.

Being an outsider is the one thing we all have in common.

The frightened walk away when love is difficult. I know that now. You have to be willing to give everything away. You have to be willing to end up with nothing. Only then will your heart be whole.