But if it couldn't be love and it didn't feel like lust, what was it? Like? Did he like her? Of course, he did, but that word didn't capture his feelings, either. It was a little too... vague and soft around the edges. People liked ice cream. People liked to watch television. It meant nothing, and it didn't come close to explaining why, for the first time, he felt the urge to tell someone the truth.

The search for God's presence was much of a mystery as God himself, and what was God if not a mystery?

I know, but no matter what I choose I have to live with it. Forever. I have to be able to go forward and not look back anymore. Can you understand that?

You were spying on us?" "It was kind of hard not to. You were right there by the workshop with Will. it looked like he was practically squishing you to death." "He wasn't," Ronnie assured him. "I'm just saying how it looked." She smiled. You'll understand when you're a little older.

Poetry, she thought, wasn't written to be analyzed; it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.

The next time you're mad at me, talk to me,' he said. 'Don't shut me out. I don't like playing games. And by the way, I had a great time, too.

Gossip is one thing, hurtful gossip is completely another, and even in high school we weren't THAT mean.