But I know this. We're ready to move forward again in our way. Together or apart, no matter how far apart, we live in one another. We go on together.

The distinction has blurred between young adult and adult books. Some of the teen books have become more sophisticated.

I'm writing this down, because it is going to be hard for me to say it. Because this is probably our last time just us. See, I can write that down, but I don't think I can say it. I'm not doing this to say goodbye, though I know that has to be part of it. I'm doing it to thank you for all we have had and done and been for one another, to say I love you for making this life of mine what it is. Leaving you is the hardest thing I have to do. But the thing is, the best parts of me are in you, all three of you. You are who I am, and what I cherish in myself stays on in you.

When I turned fifteen, I remember my father gave me a credit card which I was allowed to use for two things: emergencies and books.

She wasn’t sure if he wanted more from her or if he wanted less. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was always both.

He no longer represented someday a possibility. He represented a road not taken a road that suddenly shot so far into the distance she couldn’t see it anymore.

She knew whose love she doubted. It wasn't her parents' and it wasn't her friends: It was her own.