You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn't. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn't. The pang she felt for Tibby carried something like envy. You couldn't stand still for anything short of death, and God knew she had tried.

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

Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.

When you remembered to forget, you were remembering. It was when you forgot to forget that you forgot.

She wondered if maybe tragedy was what it took to make your heart capable of admitting a new member.

She went around with a broken heart, and she wasn't sure who'd broken it. She thought it was herself, mostly.

I dont really write with the idea of trying to teach any lessons. I want to tell a story as truthfully and engagingly as I can, and then let the chips fall where they may.