That air. The air afterwards. I wanted to breathe it in. It felt right to breathe it in. Because we were breathing them in, weren't we? And the building. We were breathing it all in. And I thought, there's a part of this that's actually a part of me now. I now have that responsibility. I am alive, and I am breathing, and I can do the things this dust can't do.

I don’t like it when you use my shampoo, because then your hair smells like me, not you.

having someone think of me that way was like discovering a new window in the room i'd lived in all my life.

The boy I just kissed is talking to my father. The boy I want to kiss again is waiting for my mother to serve pancakes. I must fight the urge to freak.

The key is to never recognize these imbalances. To not let the dauntingness daunt us.

breathtaking, adj. Those moments when we kiss and surrender for an hour before we say a single word.

iv. who was it who invented size zero? who was it who promised that if you got to a certain point you would no longer be?