When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.
Katy skipped over, her low-rise jeans threatening to fall off her skinny hips. With some girls, that was a sexy look. With Katy, it made you nervous.
It's as if once you hit high school, you're programmed, like a robot, to be an asshole to your parents.
It's like a Venn diagram of tragedy.
Life doesn't have to be only anxiety about what's gone wrong, and complaints about the world around you.
Okay, then, what was he like? Just give me something to go on so that I have a shot at him!''A shot at him? Are you on an elk hunt?
Remember that no matter where I am or what I'm doing I've got a special place inside me that's all for you. It's been there since the day we met.
Don't ask me how I am,' I blurt. 'Please.' I want to keep feeling good. Just because the lights are on doesn't mean I have to look.
You are beautiful, Lucy. Inside and out. And that hurts, too. It hurts more specifically. More personally.
Where do you think you're going?I turn to see him, Cameron's dad. He is tall, a lot taller than my mom and most of the teachers at school, and has Cameron's big eyes. he says, studying me with a smile...
Sometimes you want to hear your own mother's voice.
I think about how there are certain people who come into your life, and leave a mark. I don’t mean the usual faint impression: he was cute, she was nice, they made me laugh, I wish I’d known her bette...
The Lord doesn't give a person more than he knows they can bear.
That's what music did. It made you feel. ...Music, her grandfather always told her, was language. A special language, a gift from the Muses, something all people are born understanding but few people...
Sitting and waiting for something to happen was the worst kind of torture.
No one measures a life in weeks and days. You measure life in years and by the things that happen to you.
It happened right then; he looked at me and it was the thing I’d been waiting for but didn’t know it. I don’t mean anything corny like I fell in love or even into a crush or anything like that. It was...
Sometimes trust isn’t something you can just choose to do even if it makes sense. All my life the only reliable person, the one I could count on, the one who hasn’t abandoned me, is me.
Apparently, the world was perfect in 1958.
We write in ways that, we generally hope, reflect real life, or at least look familiar to humans. And in life, recurring themes are a recurring theme. We never quite conquer a pet vice or a relationsh...