My childhood was spent embracing one literary heroine after another. I identified passionately with each one and would slavishly imitate them.

Ciao," I say casually, and flick my hair back. "Si. Ciao." I could so be Italian. Except I might have to learn a few more words.

Women need chocolate. It's a scientific fact.

There are some things I don't understand about Jess and never will. No wedding dress. No flowers. No photo album. No champagne. The only thing she got out of her wedding was a husband. (I mean, obviously the husband is the main point when you get married. Absolutely. That goes without saying. But still, not even a new pair of shoes?)

We all fail to appreciate each day just how much we already possess. Light, air, freedom, the companionship of friends.

she doesn’t really have a sense of humor. I think she’d like to have one—it’s just that she doesn’t quite understand what jokes are for.

I'll show Luke I can fit into the city. I'll show him I can be a true New Yorker. I'll go the gym, and then I'll eat a bagel, and I'll ... shoot someone, maybe? Or maybe just the gym will be enough.