After you finish a book, the story still goes on in your mind. You can never change the beginning. But you can always change the end.
...she was still water in his hands. He didn't know how to hold on.
There was a mood of magic and frenzy to the room. Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails. And then there was the smell-the smell of hope, the kind of smell that brought people home.
Her life was monotonous, but it kept her out of trouble. . . . This, her father would say, was called being an adult.
If anyone had been paying attention to the signs, they would have realized that air turns white when things are about to change, that paper cuts mean there's more to what's written on the page than meets the eye, and that birds are always out to protect you from things you don't see.
Whenever I would get too nosy as a child, my grandmother would say, "When you learn someone else's secret, your own secrets aren't safe. Dig up one, release them all.
It felt as though they were the only people in the world, two young women about to bury the symbol of their helplessness, as if that's all it would take to make them whole again.
He didn't think he belonged here, so she was making him face some uncomfortable facts. People adapt. People change. You can grow where you're planted.
Stability was overrated. Crises and adventures, on the other hand, could actually teach you something.
If a man has so much heat he burns your skin when he touches you, he's the devil. Run away
When she looked in the mirror these days, she saw someone she didn't recognize...She saw an old woman trying to be beautiful, her skin dry and her wrinkles like cracks. She looked like a very well-dressed winter apple.
The area was encompassed in a bubble of warm, fragrant steam from the funnel cake deep fryers. It smelled like sweet vanilla cake batter you licked off a spoon.
People always say life is too short for regrets. But the truth is, it's too long.
Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails.
Some men you know are Southern before they ever say a word," Julia said as she and Emily watched Sawyer's progress, helpless, almost as if they couldn't look away. "They remind you of something good--picnics or carrying sparklers around at night. Southern men will hold doors open for you, they'll hold you after you yell at them, and they'll hold on to their pride no matter what. Be careful what they tell you, though. They have a way of making you believe anything, because they say it that way.
Men. You can't live with them, you can't shoot them.
Love always hurts. That’s one thing I know you know. But it’s worth it. That’s what you don’t know. Yet.
I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.
I should let people in. If they leave, they leave. If I break, I break. It happens to everyone. Right?
There was an art to the male posterior. That's all there was to it.
When people believe you have something to give, something no one else has, they'll go to great lengths and pay a lot of money for it.
Not every man was sorry when he hurt a woman.
He was the only person in the world she was tongue-tied around, and yet the only person she really wanted to talk to.
When you know something’s wrong, but you don’t know exactly what it is, the air around you changes.
There was a certain power beautiful mothers held over their less beautiful daughters.
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