People weren't firecrackers who burst into the night sky with brilliance and glory, and a moment later faded away to nothing. Our souls had to be more lasting than that.

I can't believe you just did that! Are you crazy?" I gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Why do people keep asking me that?" He turned to stare at me, his eyes worried. "Who else keeps asking you that? Are any of them doctors?

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.

Guys can smell desperation. It triggers an instinct in them to run far and fast so they aren't around when a woman starts peeling apart her heart.

Happy people are rarely interesting.

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.

Happy is entirely up to you and always has been.