It seemed that everywhere you went, people quickly adapted to the way they had to live, and called it Life.

Books light the fire-whether it's a book that's already written, or an empty journal that needs to be filled in.

The child who was happy with herself meant the parents had won the jackpot.

I've been waiting for someone to sign the permission slip for me to write about sex. In the meantime, I've written about sex in all my books anyway.

To be anorexic...she thought, amounted to wanting to shed yourself of some of the imperfect mosaic of pieces that made you who you were. She could understand that now for, maybe underneath that desquamated self you would locate a new version.

Just the act of sleeping beside someone you liked to be with. Maybe that was love.

But it's never just been the journals that have made the difference, I don't think. It's also the way the students are with one another . . . the way they talk about books and authors and themselves. Not just their problems, but their passions too. The way they form a little society and discuss whatever matters to them. Books light the fire-whether it's a book that's already written, or an empty journal that needs to be filled in.