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It was a pity nice guys could hurt, because everyone knew their hearts hurt the most.
“Besides…who wants to be wanted anyway?”
You know what the best thing about purses was? They could carry around books.
Could you imagine? A bookshelf with not a single book.
I was convinced everyone in the world had a form a weirdness to them, and the cool thing—at least I hoped so—was the idea that there was someone out there just as quirky as you were. The idea of finding your other weirdo was so attractive to me.
“Everyone has a golden. It could be anything—a song, a book, a pet, a person—anything that makes you so happy your insides cry of pure joy. It feels like you’re on drugs but better because it’s a natural high.
Because if there was ever a time I wanted a person to flirt with me, it was definitely while we were talking about reading.
“That’s a real shame.” “Why’s that?” “Because when the world gives a person a smile like that, it should be the only activity those lips ever partake in.”
but I noticed when his eyes traveled to my chest. Their eyes always found my chest.
Why didn’t anyone ever throw reading parties?
There was nothing as romantic as the feel of a book in your hands.
“He apologized…for what he did with Lia.” “You can apologize for punching someone, but it doesn’t stop the bruising.”
No one should have to stand in a cemetery alone.
