The problem was that I'd never worn a bikini before. My dad doesn't allow them. He thinks even one-pieces show too much skin and constantly suggests that Jane and I wear wet suits.

I will not go on, I thought. I won't. I will throw my soul to the wind and blow into a thousand pieces. I will wash up on a shore somewhere like bleached and broken driftwood. I will dry out in the sun until I-and any gift I ever had-shrivel into the sand.

"Women," he said in disgust. I wasn't sure whether we was referring to me or nuns.

The only things you can truly love after such a short time are ice cream flavors and comfortable shoes.

That's the magic of books. They're never quite the same for any two people. When you read one, you automatically make it your own.

Things that are easily done are often much harder to undo. Sometimes, impossible.

The only wishes that will ever change you are the kind that may, at any moment, eat you whole.