Page 1: "You think it's so easy to change yourself. You think it's so easy, but it's not."
Page 48: "That's the problem with life. You never get enough time to stare at your ceiling and try to figure out what's going on."
Page 70: "Since then I focused on smaller projects. Waking up in the morning. Doing homework. Walking around at night. Breathing"
Page 164: "But maybe he found something he loved to do and people he loved to do it with."
Page 211: "No one can mold me. I know because I've tried."
Page 220: "But sometimes you have to give up something you are to get to who you want to be."
Page 226: "...why are you letting your issues get in the way of your talent?"
Page 233: "...don't let anyone else decide your life for you."
Page 241: "Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don't know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn't you. That isn't you at all."
Page 247: "What do you do when you say sorry, but that still isn't enough?"
Page 248: "...because [she] deserved to be the best that she could be. And I did, too."
Page 252: "...I was never going to be the person he hoped I would be either."
Page 253: "This wasn't how I imagined things going. But imagination is so often no match for the absurdity, the randomness, the tragedy of reality."
Page 259: "Some people will mess with you, whenever they want, and for no reason except that they can. But hurting yourself is giving those people all the power, and they don't deserve it. Why would they deserve to have control over your life?"
Page 269: "But people don't always get what they deserve."
Page 271: "People are who they are and, try as you might, you cannot make them be what you want them to be."
Page 273: "...things don't stay the same forever: couches are replaced,...you discover a song, your body becomes forever scarred. And with each of these moments you change and change again, your true self spinning, shifting positions--but always at last it returns to you, like a dancer on the floor. Because throughout it all, you are still, always, you: beautiful and bruised, known and unknowable. And isn't that--that you--enough?"
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