Every breath, every heartbeat, was one less until maybe things stopped hurting this much.

I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful.

I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.

It was strange how words meant something when they came out of your mouth. Inside your head they were safe and silent, but once they were outside, people grabbed hold of them.

Every seven years our bodies change, every cell. Every seven years, we disappear.

Then she says, ‘I love you.’ Like three drops of blood falling onto snow.

We make patterns, we share moments.

All I know is that I have two choices – stay wrapped in blankets and get on with dying, or get the list back together and get on with living.

I love you. I love you. I send this message through my fingers and into his, up his arm and into his heart. Hear me. I love you. And I'm sorry to leave you.

It's all right, Tessa, you can go. We love you. You can go now.' 'Why are you saying that?' 'She might need permission to die, Cal.' 'I don't want her to. She doesn't have my permission.

Bye, Tess. haunt me if you like. I don't mind.

I vibrate with cheer and delight in my cells. I let beauty heal me!

Leadership. Applies for weak and strong ones.

People should know about us. Girls who write their pain on their bodies. ~Louisa

What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature.

The secret to success is to start from scratch and keep on scratching.

The older I get, the more impressed I am with women. I have yet to meet a woman who is not strong. They don't exist.

There are a lot of decisions to make, creatively. Now, with digital, you can really be the author of your own work. From the beginning to the end of the process, you control everything.

Design adds value faster than it adds cost.

Poverty is not an act of God. It is the result of flawed policy, and that is a moral challenge.

The door of the novel, like the door of the poem, also shuts. But not so fast, nor with such manic, unanswerable finality.