Maybe it is desperation. Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love.

When I was 11 or 12, I was really bored with everything on my summer reading list. It was all happy, middle-grade kinds of books. I was getting frustrated, because I liked to read. My mother went to the library and got me a copy of 'The Other Side of Midnight' by Sidney Sheldon. It was my first adult book.

She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.

Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.

You have a way of looking at things. You make it seem as though everything's going to be okay. I can't imagine a more dangerous thing to have than hope like yours.

Even things that aren't broken can be fixed.