but they had also settled into the maddening familiarity of friendship; maddening for her at least.

I'm not the consolation prize, Dex. I'm not something you resort to. I happen to think I'm worth more than that.

…she was discovering once again that reading and writing were not the same — you couldn't just soak it up then squeeze it out again.

You know what i can't understand? You have all these people telling you all the time how great you are, smart and funny and talented and all that, i mean endlessly, i've been telling you for years. So why don't you believe it? why do you think people say that stuff, Em? Do you think it's a conspiracy, people secretly ganging up to be nice about you?

This isn't a letter, it's a gift.

You must do what you enjoy.

Better by far to be good and courageous and bold and to make difference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you