There are certain things I do not talk about.

You can't be real," Delilah murmurs. "Says who?" I ask. "Did you really think that a story exists only when you're reading it?

You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride.

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.

Lies were only as strong as the suckers that believed them.

When a freedom is taken away from you, I suppose, you recognize it as a privilege, not a right.

What if instead of focusing on what you don't have, you concentrate on what you've got?