So this is how life was, she thought with a faint smile: It wore you down until you emerged at its wildest, most unexpected ends.

It's the craziest thing, but I can't stop thinking about you.

Among her other talents were forgetting what she did not like and ignoring what she preferred not to see.

He was just like summer, and she loved summer. If she had any wish, it would be to live a lifetime of summers.

The living are made of nothing but flaws. The dead, with each passing day in the afterlife, become more and more impeccable to those who remain earthbound.

It is easy to forget now, how effervescent and free we all felt that summer.

She found herself longing for home-not just for the hotel but for New York and all the real novels that she could lose herself in there.