Sometimes love does not have the most honorable beginnings, and the endings, the endings will break you in half. It's everything in between we live for.

No one should have to go back to the place where she had once been a girl.

We are taught to be suspicious, especially of anyone who might not look like us or share our beliefs.

I made a startling discovery. Time spent writing = output of work. Amazing.

Happiness compresses time, makes it dense and bright, pocketsized.

It was too much work to remember things you might not have again, and so one by one they opened up their hands and let them go.

Our friendship was like our writing in some ways. It was the only thing that was interesting about our otherwise dull lives. We were better off when we were together. Together we were a small society of ambition and high ideals. We were tender and patient and kind. We were not like the world at all.