So much of young adult literature has turned dark, almost pathological. It's almost as if there is a race to see who can be the most dysfunctional.

Dwelling on him would make him a bigger part of my life than I want him to be.

The shackles of belief, when reinforced by fear, are difficult to break free from and rarely done.

Suffering ceases to be suffering when we form a clear picture of it.

I am facing the most difficult thing of my life, my own greatest failure.

I don't think it is as much a human foible as it is a human curse that we cannot understand the beauty of a thing until it is gone.

The smells of Christmas are the smells of childhood [p. 53]