Making ourselves feel ugly is not fun." "We are ugly.

Maybe that was the price of loving someone: You lost your grasp of where they ended and you began.

Fuzzy Tally is no more.

Money's the same, whoever gives it to you. That was the point of money, after all: crisp and clean or wrinkled or disintegrated into quarters - a dollar was always worth a hundred cents.

When she awoke, the world was on fire.

Frighteningly Beautiful, Dangerously Strong, Breathtakingly Fast. Face it Tally-wa you're special.

Once we turn, it’s new pretty, middle pretty, late pretty.” Shay dropped her arms, and her board stopped drifting. “Then dead pretty.