She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began; looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.

... friends are such a mixed blessing.

I zoomed in on the shoe department like a blonde homing pigeon. Shoes, shoes everywhere! Ah, sweet shoes. I truly think you can take the measure of a civilization by looking at its footwear.

I—I adore you, too. Well, I don't know if I adore you. That's not really the word I'd use. But I—I—" I managed to wrench it out. God, this was hard! "I love you." "Of course you do," he said, totally unsurprised. "WHAT? I finally tell you my deepest, most personal feelings and you're all, 'Yeah, I already got that memo'? This, this is why you drive me nuts! This is why it's so hard to tell you things! I take it back.

Never, EVER give up. Not ever. Not EVER. Ever EVER!

Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

All writers are crazy. So never mind what the editors and your family and your critique group tells you. Submit your manuscripts and keep submitting until you get an offer. Then you can be crazy, with a paycheck.