You don't have to say it out loud. I already know why you like me.' 'You do, huh?' 'Yep.' He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. 'So,' I said. 'Tell me' 'It's an animal attraction,' he said simply. 'Totally chemical.' 'Hmm,' I said. 'You could be right.' 'It doesn't matter, anyway, why you like me.' 'No?' 'Nope.' His hands were in my hair now, and I was leaning in, not able to totally make out his face, but his voice was clear, close to my ear. 'Just that you do.

All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.

I turned and looked into the gas station, where Wes was now paying, as the man who'd driven us looked on. "That's too bad," I said. "It's okay, though," she assured me. "Someday I'll show you an extraordinary boy, Macy. They do exist. You just have to believe me." "Don't worry," I said. "I do.

She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.

If there's one thing I've learned in the last few months, it's that sometimes you just have to close your eyes and jump.

When you can't save yourself or your heart, it helps to be able to save face.

Never would forever, with all its meanings, be so clear and distinct as in the true, guaranteed end of the world.