Basically what we have here is a dreamer. Somebody out of touch with reality. When she jumped, she probably thought she'd fly

She could become a spinster, like Emily Dickinson, writing poems full of dashes and brilliance, and never gaining weight.

We listened to them, but it was clear they'd received too much therapy to know the truth.

If love were endless, if it were on tap, it wouldn't hit us the way it does. And we certainly wouldn't write about it.

What are you doing here, honey? You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets." (...) "Obviously, Doctor," she said, "you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl.

You can tell when something's not moving forward anymore. When the doubts you have about it don't go away.

To start with, look at all the books.