[Jules] slides into a seat beside me with her hot lunch tray, sighing. “Four hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds till we’re out of purgatory for the weekend.” “Maybe later,” I murmur, still distracted by the day’s previous events. “So, let me show you how a conversation works. I say something, and then you say something back that actually relates to what I was talking about, as if you were even the least bit interested.” “Huh?” I say.

I don't write the same book over and over - I think if I did that, I would stop writing. I couldn't write a series with the same character, and I couldn't write a romance novel over and over again that takes place at a different beach every year. That's not who I am.

Princes don't come around everyday, and happy endings don't grow on trees

We dont have to accept each others beliefs..but we do have to accept each others right to believe them.

The right idea is the one you can't stop thinking about; the one that's in your head first thing in the morning.

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

That's the paradox of loss: How can something that's gone weigh us down so much?