When she wanted to escape her life, she read books

I became a firefighter because I wanted to save people. But I should have been more specific. I should have named names.

I think my writing has become "cleaner."

You can blame your ugliness for keeping people at bay, when in reality you're crippled by the thought of letting another person close enough to popentially scar you even more deeply. You can tell yourself that it's safer to love someone who will never really love you back, because you can't lose someone you never had.

When you have been burned by fire once, you don't leap into the flames again.

I understand better than she'd imagine that history is indelible. You can mask it; you can patch it smooth and clear; but you always know what's hidden underneath.

Is Fate getting what you deserve, or deserving what you get?