It won’t matter if nobody ever thinks I’m pretty (although sometimes I wish, just for a second, that somebody would)

She lives for this-the fight, the battle for survival. She actually enjoys it.

Soy un mentiroso.Siempre estuve mintiendo. Ella se merecía un ángel, y yo quería serlo por ella.

Birds feed; then they nest. Paint them any color you want, send them halfway around the world, but they’ll always find a way back. And eventually they’ll show their true colors again.

Is what I did really so much worse than what anybody else does?Is it really so much worse than what you do?Think about it.

Are you sure that being like everybody else will make you happy?””I don’t know any other way.””Let me show you.”And then we’re kissing. Or at least, I think we’re kissing—I’ve only seen it done a...

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging up your back and runing its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do-the only thing-is run.

He is no longer mine to lose, but the grief is there, a gnawing sense of disbelief.

Nothing,” my dad and I say at the same time, and he smiles at me.

Every choice is limited. That’s life.

I’d never undetstood how Hana Could lie so often and easily. But just like anyhting else, lying becomes easier the more you do it.

This was my secret: she was the one who saved me.

Perfection is a promise, and a reassurance that we are not wrong.

Find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.

It was all very strange, Mr. Gray thought, as he wiped the coffee canister clean with a sponge. Very, very mysterious. You were born; you lived a whole life; and at the end, you wound...

Welcome to the free world. We give people the power to choose. They can even choose the wrong thing. Beautiful, isn’t it?

People need other people to feel things for them,” she said. “It gets lonely to feel things all by yourself.

Because I think you’re right. You can make a difference.” He told me experiences were kind of like fate, and fate usually came in the form of a test. He told me fate liked to...

You can’t go home again” ─ isn’t necessarily that places change but people do.

Alex loved books. He was the one who first introduced me to poetry. That’s another reason I can’t read anymore.

He has left nothing except for a note, which I find neatly folded under one of my sneakers.The Story of Solomon is the only way I know how to explain.And then, in smaller letters:Forgive me.

I used to think that’s what love was: knowing someone so well he was like a part of you.

It was so strange, the way that life moved forward: the twists and the dead ends, the sudden opportunities. She supposed if you could predict or foresee everything that was going to happen, you’d lose...

Poetry isn’t like any writing I’ve ever heard before. I don’t understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.

That’s when I realized that certain moments go on forever. Even after they’re over they still go on, even after you’re dead and buried, those moments are lasting still, backward and forward, on into infinity....

Sometimes I feel like if you just watch things, just sit still and let the world exist in front of you – sometimes I swear that just for a second time freezes and the world...

Not gray, exactly. Right before the sun rises there’s a moment when the whole sky goes this pale nothing color-not really gray but sort of, or sort of white, and I’ve always really liked it...

Amazingly, I can still see the stars: whole galaxies blooming from nothing – pink and purple suns, vast silver oceans, a thousand white moons.

En mi mente, yo estaba reviviendo toda mi vida de nuevo – lentamente, tomando mi tiempo. Retrasándolo. Porque sabía que, tarde o temprano, llegaría a ella.Y entonces… Bueno, ya había muerto una vez. No podría...

I guess we all have some of these – memories like artillery shells, fired at close range.

The hours here are flat and round, disks of gray layered one on top of the other…they move slowly, at a grind, until it seems as though they are not moving at all. They are...