In my opinion, actual heroism, like actual love, is a messy, painful, vulnerable business—and I wanted to try to reflect that.

pg. 231-232: They'd given me a minivan. They could have picked any car and they picked a minivan. A minivan. O God of the Vehicular Justice, why dost thou mock me? Minivan, you albatross around my neck! You mark of Cain! You wretched beast high ceilings and few horsepower!

Not that smart. Not that hot. Not that nice. Not that funny. That's me: I'm not that.

When I look at my room, I see a girl who loves books.

But what could I lose by continuing that had not already been lost?

You may choose your song, but know this: Tiny. Cooper. Hates. Over. The. Rainbow.

Dear Teens at Starbucks wearing 'Abstain from Sex 2 Attain Ur Goals' t-shirts: Doesn't it depend on what my goals are?