I scared myself, because once you've thought long and hard enough about doing something that is colossally stupid, you feel like you've actually done it, and then you're never quite sure what your limits are.

My face becomes a Picasso sketch, my body slicing into pieces.

I sit at a table close to his desk. Ivy is in this class. She sits by the door. I keep staring at her, trying to make her look at me. That happens in movies - people can feel it when oother people stare at them and they just have to turn around and say something. Either Ivy has a great force field, or my lazer vision isn't very strong.

I reach for funny books all the time to help me get through life.

I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.

I can’t tell anymore when I’m asleep and when I’m awake, or which is worse.

She offered herself to the big, bad wolf and didn't scream when he took the first bite.