I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.

She thought she would know when it happened. But now, as she looked around, she wondered if it was really like that at all. Maybe it happened in a million different ways, when you were thinking of it and you weren't. Maybe there was no gap, no jump, no chasm. You didn't forget yourself all at once. Maybe you just looked around one time or another and you thought, Hey. And there you were.

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.

She wondered again about her inclination to wish for things that made her so deeply unhappy.

Why does he have to be my boyfriend? Are you inferior if you don't have a boyfriend? Why does everybody have to be in love with somebody?

Something about giving in without a fight felt wrong.

I love her. I need her. I gave away everything I had for her. I just wanted her to know me.