Choices. We all make them, sometimes more than once. Sometimes it's the choices we make over and over that define us, but more often it's the choices we don't make.
I know everything and nothing about him all at the same time.
Good things, by their nature, are fleeting. It’s those that bring us grief that linger.
A good sister is one who won't be embarrassed when you burst into tears in public. A better one will hand you tissues until you stop. The best is the one who will go get you another latte to go with the ginormous chocolate orgy she's already laid in front of you.
If you want to know how someone really feels, you almost never have to ask.
I might be alone, but i'm never lonely.
They’re like sharks. Circling. Cute, single guy, good job, nice car. It’s all they know about me.” His tone was light but his expression serious. Maybe that’s because it’s all you show them.” Maybe it’s all they want to see.
There seemed to be so much to say, but no words adequate to say it.
My head's filled up with all the reasons it won't work. And I keep running the figures, over and over, but I can't seem to come up with an answer.
If I'd known it was going to be the last time he'd ever hold me, I'd have paid better attention.
You know what they say. Best revenge is looking good, right?
Sometimes grief is a comfort we grant ourselves because it's less terrifying than trying for joy.
Abandoning a task that is futile and pointless is not giving up.
Perfection is too high a goal to strive for. Sometimes working hard brings more satisfaction in the end.
All men have the stars, but they are not the same things for different people.
Does madness bring creativity? Or does creativity cause madness? Can an artist create without the ups so high and the downs so low?
I didn’t fall in love with James. Falling sounds like an accident. Falling hurts. I’d fallen in love with Michael, fallen hard like slipping off a cliff and hitting the rocks below. Falling in love was something I’d vowed never to do again. I chose to love James.
Tears disturb and confuse men, but women know the relief they can bring. I didn't cry because I couldn't deal with my life, but because I could.
What are you, Elle? Are you a ghost? Are you an angel or a demon? Because you can’t be real.
This is the truth. I have been in love. I have been in lust. I’ve made good choices and bad ones, I have been smart and I’ve been stupid. But I have never in my life felt the way I do now, here, with Will.
I've been hit on plenty of times, mostly by men with little finesse who thought what was between their legs made up for what they lacked between their ears.
Jealousy smells like the water in the bottom of a flower vase after the flowers have died.
It was not a happy ending of the sort in fairy tales, but it was the only one we had.
I do not like that I allowed my past to close me off. I do not like that I let circumstances rob me of the ability to have a normal relationship with a man, to have friends, to be happy. I do not like it, but I had felt myself powerless against it.
Foolish. Stupid. I knew it. I knew my reaction was unreasonable, bu the heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing. Blaise Pascal said that, and I've always found it to be true.
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