That's the great thing about being in the third grade. If you've got one polysyllabic adjective, everyone thinks you're a genius.

You had been a paper boy to me all these years - two dimensions as a character on the page and two different, but still flat, dimensions as a person. But that night you turned out to be real.

That's why people grow weary of listening to Dumpees obsess over their troubles: getting dumped is predictable, repetitive, and boring. They want to stay friends; they feel smothered; it's always them and it's never you; and afterward, you're devastated and their relieved; it's over for them and just starting for you.

I always felt like you had to be important to have enemies.

In the end, what makes a book valuable is not the paper it's printed on, but the thousands of hours of work by dozens of people who are dedicated to creating the best possible reading experience for you.

It took me a sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mints and forty minutes to get over that boy.

The sky is like a monochromatic contemporay painting, drawing me in its illusion of depth, pulling me up.