Mallory dropped her head to the steering wheel. "Look, I'm mad at you, okay? This isn't about me. I know my painful memories are relative. My life is good. I'm lucky. This isn't about how poor little Mallory has had it so hard. I'm not falling apart or anything." He stroked a hand down her back. "Of course you're not. You're just holding the steering wheel up with your head for a minute, that's all.

The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the ability to reach it.” – Chloe Traeger

I'm not defined by what people think of me. My happiness comes from within.

I gave you sympathy. *I* want sympathy!" "Are you kidding me? You have the sexiest man on the planet wanting you. You're getting laid regularly. No sympathy for you!

Why do we always fight?” she whispered. “You know why.” Yeah, she did. “It’s science.” “Combustible chemistry,” he agreed. “Dangerous.

They say money talks, but all mine ever says is 'good-bye sucker.

Men are like a fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd like to have dinner with.