She was still waiting for him to come back to her, even though he wasn't going to. She was still holding out for something that wasn't going to happen. She was good at waiting. That seemed like a sad thing to be good at.

A loving soul was always more beautiful over the long haul, but actual prettiness was fleeting.

Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll pray you want me still.

She spilled rice on my knee, and she smiled. I wanted her to spill a thousand things on me, lava, acid, bricks, anything, and smile each time

Age is not so much a feature of your character, as the spot where you stand for a pretty fleeting time on the arc of your life.

Wear them, they will make you brave.

But then she hadn’t just learned to love this summer – she had also learned how to need.