You never know where the night will take you.
You bookish little pervert.
When I was old enough to read and write, my parents gave me an eraser board that I kept in my room at all times. The idea was that when frustrated, I, Lily, should write down words on the board to exp...
What did it say about me that he hadn’t? That he couldn’t possibly like me as much as I’d started to like him. That I would never be as pretty and interesting as that Sofia girl, while Dash’s handsome...
We've already established my position on dillying and dallying, which right now is chaste with a chance for inveterate lust, depending on the ripeness of our first interactions.
We believe in the wrong things. That's what frustrates me the most. Not the lack of belief, but the belief in the wrong things.
We always see the worst in our selves. Our most volnerable selves. We need someone to get close enough to tell us that we're wrong. Someone we trust.
They were tricky, those demons. Could they be trusted? Of course they could be trusted. She'd created them. She owned them. They wouldn't lead her astray.
There’s no such thing as ready, she says. There’s only willing.
Therefore. Ergo. Erg. Argh. Ugh.
There was the other part of it, too—the I want to believe there is a somebody out there just for me. I want to believe that I exist to be there for that somebody. That was, I had to admit, less a conc...
There are just lots of possibilities in the world, I’ve decided. Dash. Boris. I need to keep my mind open for what could happen and not decide that the world is hopeless if what I want to happen doesn...
The only use she has for the word fun is to make the word funeral.
The mosh pit will reveal all the answers. The mosh pit never lies.
The girl is dressed in a flannel shirt, and I can’t tell whether that’s because she’s trying to bring back the only fashion style of the past fifty years that hasn’t been brought back or whether it’s...
Someone should pay for their sins. I'll show you Awful, humans. I can't even see what I'm doing. All I know is rage, and panic, and darkness.
So he's worth a second shot?The more apt question, my dear, is: are you?
Roaming the streets of Manhattan on foot had always been one of my favorite ways to find inspiration. There's so much to see and smell (not all of it pleasant, except this time of year, which smells o...
Ouch. Cursing—not so dashing.
No. I can’t change. I shouldn’t change.