If my love were an ocean, there would be no more land. If my love were a desert, you would see only sand. If my love were a star- late at night, only light. And if my love could grow wings, I'd be soaring in flight.

We didn't get that chance because I was afraid. Afraid I had no chance with you.

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.

You don't know what goes on in anyone's life but your own.

Why does it say she has three hundred and twenty friends?" Josh asks. "Who has that many friends?

I didn't feel physically sick. But mentally. My mind was twisting in so many ways. (...) We once saw a documentary on migraines. One of the men interviewed used to fall on his knees and bang his head against the floor, over and over during attacks. This diverted the pain from deep inside his brain, where he couldn't reach it, to a pain outside that he had control over.

I didn't humiliate him by pointing it out because that's not how you treat friends. You don't judge them. You don't humiliate them. I bet he's been judging me all along.