Why are you doing this to yourself? When something bad happens, why do you have to pick at it until it bleeds all over again?

On the other hand, I think cats have Asperger's. Like me, they're very smart. And like me, sometimes they simply need to be left alone.

You would be surprised at the lengths you will go to believe the best about someone if you truly love him

[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.

You could only save someone that wanted to be saved; otherwise, you'd be be dragged down for the count, too.

The damage was permanent; there would always be scars. But even the angriest scars faded over time until it was difficult to see them written on the skin at all, and the only thing that remained was the memory of how painful it had been.

How foolish it is to run away with a man who's already run away with someone else.