I'm usually bikini-ready all year round.
Everyone has an identity crisis when they are 16 or 17 years old.
. . . There are certain people who come into your life, and leave a mark. . . Their place in your heart is tender; a bruise of longing, a pulse of unfinished business. Just hearing their names pushes and pulls at you in a hundred ways, and when you try to define those hundred ways, describe them even to yourself, words are useless.
Forgetting isn't enough. You can paddle away from the memories and think they are gone. But they will keep floating back, again and again and agian. They circle you, like sharks. Until, unless, something, someone? Can do more than just cover the wound.
That's how you know you really trust someone, I think; when you don't have to talk all the time to make sure they still like you or prove that you have interesting stuff to say.
The kind of life I want is to be a person who would get a personal note every day.
he's a story i want to know from page one
Your superhuman power was to be able not to feel. Is it there inside everybody, this self that comes out while you are in captivity? You become the closest approximation of yourself that can tolerate living there.
The human being lives, moves, and has his being in a limitless ocean of health-power, and he uses this power according to his faith.
There is no house like the house of belonging.
In hindsight everything is much clearer.