Getting lost is just another way of saying 'going exploring.

I hated roses. I hated them for being so trite, so clichéd, a default, all-purpose flower that said I love you, I'm sorry, and get well soon. Give me peonies and tulips, orchids or gardenia. Those were flowers with character.

He knew me in all the ways that truly mattered: the shape of my fears, the contours of my dreams.

Flawed, we're truly interesting, truly memorable, and yes, truly beautiful.

If there was one thing I refused to be, it was an insignificant footnote in some boy's history.

To dream is to starve doubt, feed hope.

I didn't know that the world could be so mind-blowingly beautiful.