Some people never find the right kind of love. You know, the kind that steals your breath away, like diving into snowmelt. The kind that jolts your heart, sets it beating apace, an anxious hiccuping of hummingbird wings

Too much to take in, too much to purge. Why must every memory, once sweet, dead end in such ugliness?

I mean, who wants to trudge through life, doing everything just right? Taking no chances means wasting your dreams.

Life is all about change. If it were static, think about how boring it would be. You can't be afraid of it, and you can't worry that you'll mess things up. You deserve good things, and I want to be one of them.

I think parents should know what their children are reading, and if they truly object, they should tell their kids why, rather than summarily removing a book from their possession.

empty and closed, hovering in some frozen netherworld neither sun nor rain could thaw.

I'm in love. And I like how that feels. And I hate how that feels. Because love is an invention of fiction writers.