Buthe had the kindest face in the world, with big, dark eyes and buzzed-cutbrown hair.

Do you really think anyone in this world, compares to you in my eyes?

I know...and I love you. But I don't think we love each other in the same way. And...I think keeping you near me, would destroy me.

There is nothing about you to be embarrassed about

You hated what we had done, and it had meant so much to me. I hated you after that.

Hewas beautiful. I know, it’s not the manliest way to describe a guy, but inmy head, it was the adjective I used most often and it fit him to a tee.

Where do we go from here?"-Kiera"We go nowhere."-Denny

She pushed my chest like she wanted me off of her, but her fingers had my shirt clutched in them and I knew she was full of shit. She wanted me.

Nat, ” he whispered and lowered his head. Her heart missed a beat as his soft mouth brushed against hers. Then his lips were atop hers, firmly, his tongue sliding against them.

Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.

You know, I think I'm a stronger person for realizing that you can't make everybody love you.

I don't myself need that role for God. My view is that creation itself, the universe itself, is the most wonderful thing deserving awe and respect. And that satisfies me as my substitute for God.

The biggest lessons I've learned in life have probably come from a bad situation, from an angry situation, even if I wasn't the one who was angry.

Anything is art if an artist says it is.

Human passions have mysterious ways, in children as well as grown-ups. Those affected by them can't explain them, and those who haven't known them have no understanding of them at all.

We've going to bring back thighs. Enough of these size zeros. Thighs, and back fat, and over-the-belt fat, it's all got to come back again, and we're the ones to do it.

The Nobel Prizes are much more than awards to scholars; they are a celebration of civilization, of mankind, and of what makes humans unique - that is their intellect from which springs creativity.

He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.