I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.

Her grandmother used to tell her that a pink sky meant someone in the distance had just fallen in love . . . .

It was like she was MADE of cake, light and pretty and decorated on the outside-with her sweet laugh and pink streak to her hair-but it was anyone's guess what was on the inside.

Because he knew the best way to get what he wanted was to break down what made us strongest. And our friendships were what made us strong.

Her friendship . . . still existed, as if it was a living, breathing thing, something that came to life the moment it happened and didn't just go away because they no longer acknowledged it.

To Fred, those years seemed to pass like quickly skimming a book and then finding the ending wasn't what he expected. He wished he'd paid more attention to the story.

For stubborn souls like Lisette, death was easier than the courage it took to actually change your life.