I am a pretty, useless ornament who always believed she'd have a man to take care of her.

It was the eyes. The secret of love was in the eyes. The way one person looked at another, the way eyes communicated and spoke when the lips never moved.

People make the rules of society, not God.

Dreams, I thought. They're the riches of a poor person, stashed in treasure chests buried deeply in the imagination. But are dreams enough?

Only someone who had cried a great deal understands why someone else wants to stop the tears.

We lived in the attic, Christopher, Cory, Carrie, and me, Now there are only three.

Maybe thats because we take criticism best from those we love and those who love us-Ethan