I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

I didn't feel anything watching him go. I didn't even wish I did.

And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

I don’t think I could have picked a worse guy to be my soul mate.

Darling, the world doesn't owe you anything.

There's no good way to die, you know? No way I've seen, anyway. It all ends with tubes and bedpans and IVs and I just-- smoking gets me out of there. Gets me outside, gets me away from all the--" "Sick people?" I say, and she shakes her head. "Away from my life.

Imagine a guy. He’s a little taller than you, with perfect skin, skin that just screams “touch me!” and dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes and he looks so sweet and he is sweet. And then have him blush a little.