But my miracle was different. My miracle was this: out of all the houses in all the subdivisions in all of Florida, I ended up living next door to Margo Roth Spiegelman.

Some tourists think Amsterdam is a city of sin, but in truth it is a city of freedom. And in freedom, most people find sin.

Amsterdam is like the rings of a tree: It gets older as you get closer to the center.

I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater.

...And in freedom, most people find sin.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

A taste so profound and complex that it can't even be compared to other tastes, only to emotions. Cheesy waffles, I was thinking, tastes like love without the fear of love's dissolution.

My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.

The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.

All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm.

I would always love Alaska Young, my crooked neighbor, with all my crooked heart.

Perhaps people like us cannot love. Ordinary people can - that is their secret.

Common sense and a sense of humor are the same thing, moving at different speeds. A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing.

...but even strong women need an arm to lean on now and then. (Anna Whitney in Glory in Death)

If they look as though they're worried, we'll move in.''And do what exactly?' said Polly.'Threaten to shoot them, ' said Maladict firmly.'And if they don't believ

Love is a gross exaggeration of the difference between one person and everybody else.

Silence is true wisdom's best reply.

Remember how last year there were two more girls than guys and I had to be on the guys' side and dance with all the girls? That was a lot of fun. I love being tall.

Our memory tells us stories, that is, what we get to keep from our experiences is a story.

It's the curiosity that drives me. It's making a difference in the world that prevents me from ever giving up.

There is never vulgarity in a whole truth, however commonplace. It may be unimportant or painful. It cannot be vulgar. Vulgarity is only in concealment of truth, or in affectation.