She will not be simple and sweet. She will not be what people tell her she should be.

Maybe a friend is someone who wants your updates. Even if they're boring. Or sad. Or annoyingly cutesy. A friend says “Sign me up for your boring crap, yes indeed”-because he likes you anyways. He'll tolerate your junk.

What if we could stop being different colors, different backgrounds, and just be in love?

See the world as it is, not as you wish it would be

I looked at her. my lovely, tall mother with her pretty coil of hair and her hard, bitter mouth. Her veins were never open. Her heart never leapt out to flop helplessly on the lawn. She never melted into puddles. She was normal. Always. At any cost.

Love is when you have a really amazing piece of cake, and it’s the very last piece, but you let him have it.

...Mr. Wodehouse is a prose stylist of such startling talent that Frankie nearly skipped around with glee when she first read some of his phrases. Until her discovery of Something Fresh on the top shelf of Ruth's bookshelf one bored summer morning, Frankie's leisure reading had consister primarily of paperback mysteries she found on the spinning racks at the public library down the block from her house, and the short stories of Dorothy Parker. Wodehouse's jubilant wordplay bore itself into her synapses like a worm into a fresh ear of corn.