It seemed to Alabama that, reaching her goal, she would drive the devils that had driven her - that, in proving herself, she would achieve that peace which she imagined went only in surety of one’s self - that she would be able, through the medium of the dance, to command her emotions, to summon love or pity or happiness at will, having provided a channel through which they might flow. She drove herself mercilessly, and the summer dragged on.

Life has puffed and blown itself into a summer day, and clouds and spring billow over the heavens as if calendars were a listing of mathematical errors.

People are like almanacs, Bonnie - you never can find the information you're looking for, but the casual reading is well worth the trouble.

I wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to cease to exist: a book of faith and small neat worlds and of people who live by the philosophies of popular songs.

And only weaklings...who lack courage and the power to feel they're right when the whole world says they're wrong, ever lose.

Youth doesn't need friends -- it only needs crowds.

Looking for love is like asking for a new point of departure ... another chance in life.