I can feel like a hag some days if I want! And I can tell everybody how insecure I am if I want! Or I can be pretty and pretend to think I'm a hag out of fake modesty-I can do that if I want, too. Because you, Livingston, are not the boss of me and what kind of girl I become.

You can't have an ending. It's impossible. Because unlike in the movies, life goes on. You're never at the end until you die.

There's something about seeing a guy's feelings written down, something about him taking that risk and committing that heart to paper, that means so much more than anything he could just say.

I hate those endless descriptions of a heroine's physical attributes . . . it really bothers me how in books it seems like the only two choices are perfection or self-hatred. As if readers will only like a character who's ideal--or completely shattered.

Everything doesn't seem like anything when you love someone. Especially when you're young.

I suffer migraines. I do not suffer fools.

The problem is I can think whatever I think but I still feel the way I feel.