Halfway to the house Stan stopped and turned to Jane. He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her toward him.”I’m glad we’re going steady,” he whispered.”So am I.”In spite of the reassuring weight...

The humiliation that Jane had felt turned to something else–grief perhaps, or regret. Regret that she had not known how to act with a boy, regret that she had not been wiser.

If you can have everything at fifty that you wanted when you were fifteen, you’re happy.

I was fifteen.I was bored.I was miserable.

I was a stuntman for over fifteen years.

I’ve found time can heal most anything and you just might find who you’re supposed to be.