I would figure out, later, how to explain to my boss that, for me, Delia will never be a story, but a happy ending.

If God wanted us to act on instinct, we wouldn't have the power of reason.

The doctors may be mapping out the war games, but it is the nurses who make the conflict bearable.

But love wasn't about sacrifice, and it wasn't about falling short of someone's expectations. By definition, love made you better than good enough; it redefined perfection to include your traits, instead of excluding them. All any of us wanted, really, was to know that we counted. That someone else's life would not have been as rich without us here.

don't say it. don't tell me that nobody's going to stare at me, because they will. don't tell me it doesn't matter, because it does. and don't tell me i look fine because that's a lie.

I, um, I have this problem. I broke up with my boyfriend, you see. And I'm pretty upset about it, so I wanted to talk to my best friend. [...] The thing is, they're both you.

People changed. Even the people you thought you knew as well as you knew yourself.