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At every wedding someone stays home.
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Not for the first time, I wished both of us could just say what we meant. But that, like so much else, was impossible
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I knew I had to keep him to myself, as I'd slowly begun to keep everything. We had secrets now, truths and half-truths, that kept her always at arm's length, behind a closed door, miles away.
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When you had to do something, you had to do it. And eventually, if you were lucky, you did it well.
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I am not breaking my rules,' I snapped, hating that I'd ended up on the advice-recieving end of things, jumping from Dear Remy to Confused in Cincinnati all in one summer.
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Whenever something great happens, you’re always kind of poised for the universe to correct itself.
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I am never happy when I finish a book. I always start feeling good, and then I get to about Page 75 and start losing momentum - and I kind of pull it together at the end, but by then I think it's just all over. It's become almost a running joke among my agent and my editor - I always say that, so they don't take me seriously anymore.
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Even if you do make tons of new friends,” I told him, “try not to forget where you came from, okay?
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She said writting novels was like childbirth: if you truly remembered how awful it got, you'd never do it again.
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She was so emotional, on the verge of tears. This was what I'd wanted to prevent with all those quick disappearances, the tangledness of farewells and all the baggage they brought with them. But now, looking at Deb, I realized what else I'd given up: knowing for sure that someone was going to miss me. What happened to goodbye, Michael in Westcott had written on my Ume.com page. I was pretty sure I knew, now. It had been packed away in a box of its own, trying to be forgotten, until I really needed it. Until now.
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It was just perfect, just right all at once.
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That was the thing. You just never knew. Forever was so many different things. It was always changing, it was what everything was really all about.
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I'm always hopeful. I feel like I'm at the prom sitting against the wall waiting for someone to ask me to dance.
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You want me to give her a key?" the guy asked. "I want you to give her a possibility," she told him, looking at my necklace again. "And that's what a key represents. An open door, a chance. You know?
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The mistakes you make now count. Not for everything, and not forever. But they do matter, and they shape you.
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So he didn't have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know.
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Because anyone that can make you feel that bad about yourself is toxic.
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Maybe we were all destined to just keep doing the same stupid things, over and over again, never really learning a single thing.
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Maybe other writers have perfect first drafts, but I am not one of them. I always try to get the book as tight as I can, but you reach a point as the author where you have lost all perspective.
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And to know me, as you have discovered, is to love me.
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You can't make any one person your world. The trick is to take what each can give you and build a world from it.
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It sounded stupid, but of course everything does when you're just getting the bare bones facts, only the basics.
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Like it takes so little not only to change something, but to make you forget the way it once was, as well.
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Here was a boy who liked flaws, who saw them not as failings but as strengths. Who knew such a person could exist, or what would have happened if we'd found each other under different circumstances? Maybe in a perfect world. But not in this one.