If we measured life in the things that almost happened, we wouldn't get anywhere.

When she looked in the mirror these days, she saw someone she didn't recognize...She saw an old woman trying to be beautiful, her skin dry and her wrinkles like cracks. She looked like a very well-dressed winter apple.

She accepted it from then on. Books liked her. Books wanted to look after her.

Men. You can't live with them, you can't shoot them.

Sometimes you weren't supposed to share pain. Sometimes it was best just to deal with it alone.

Adolescence is like having only enough light to see the step directly in front of you.

Why were girls in such a hurry to grow up? Agatha would never understand. Childhood was magical. Leaving it behind was a magnificent loss.