Will I ever get control of my life? Will I always be shoved back and pushed around by those I trust?

Like driving along a bumpy road and losing control of the steering wheel, tossing you—just a tad—off the road. The wheels kick up some dirt, but you're able to pull it back. Yet no matter how hard you try to drive straight, something keeps jerking you to the side. You have so little control over anything anymore. And at some point, the struggle becomes too much—too tiring—and you consider letting go. Allowing tragedy... or whatever... to happen.

When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?

A lot of you cared, just not enough.

I swear, guys in groups are capable of the stupidest things." "Like war," Kellan says, heaping napkins and ketchup packets onto her tray. "And jumping off rooftops." "And lighting their farts on fire," she says.

It may seem that every time someone offers you a hand up, they just let go and you slip further down.

Actually, I love trying to figure out why certain books become hits while others, which may be just as good, have trouble finding an audience.