I've Found In My Own Life That

He Always Did The Leaving. But Not This Time. She Kept Walking, And Did Not Look Back.

Writing A Novel Is Like Childbirth: Once You Realize How Awful It Really Is, You Never Want To Do It Again.

You Can Never Be Sure Of Anyone Until You're Close Enough To See Them Clearly.

“well," Isaid Finally, Knowing He Was Waiting, “you Make Me Laugh.” He Nodded. “and?” “you're Pretty Good-looking." ""pretty Good-looking? I Called You Beautiful." "you Want To Be Beautiful?" I Asked Him. "are You Saying I'm Not?"

He Doesn’t Love Me. He Might Still Love Me As I Was At Fifteen, When I Didn’t Know Any Better. When I Trusted Everyone. I’m Not That Person Any More. He’s Just A Boy. He Was The First To Really Hurt Me, But He’s Just A Boy. There Were A Lot Of Them.