This isn't a lie, actually. I don't care why Edward left. All I really want to know is why I wasn't enough to make him stay.

A real friend isn't capable of feeling sorry for you.

I wonder if other mothers feel a tug at their insides, watching their children grow up into the people they themselves wanted so badly to be.

When was the last time someone read aloud to you? Probably when you were a child, and if you think back, you'll remember how safe you felt, tucked under the covers, or curled in someone's arms, as a story was spun around you like a web.

You figured that the only way I'd be happy is if I did the things you thought would be best for me.

How do you tell an adult that maybe everything wrong in the world stems from the fact that she's stopped believing the impossible can happen?

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