Instead, it just reminded her that sometimes there were no good choices.
Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.
It is my belief that books are living things.
No trouble ever got fixed late at night," he said. "Midnight is for regrets.
I wonder about death, I who may never know it. It looks much like ecstacy, the way they open their mouths as they drown, the way their fingers dig into your skin. Their eyes are wide and startled and they trash in your hands as though with an excess of passion.
She'd always been a little contemptuous of beauty, as though it was something you had to trade away some other vital thing for.