There is nothing wrong with me. These are really sick people, sick that you can see.

You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.

I want to go to sleep and not wake up, but I don’t want to die.

Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my life stolen, made it easier not to care... -Wintergirls

We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.

I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.

So, she tells me, the words dribbling out with the cranberry muffin crumbs, commas dunked in her coffee.

They yell at me because I can't see what they see. Nobody can explain to me why my eyes work different than theirs.

In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.

Write about the emotions you fear the most.

The purpose of life is to nurture joy, which involves those aspects of humanity that enrich the soul.

A fruitless year, take a fearless heartOne that blooms late will flourish in the dark

You don't really get to witness what athletes go through. Like, the sacrifices and stuff like that. It's by far the most amazing, beautiful thing.

Everybody's funny if you love them.

All the great works of art, the cathedrals - the Gothic cathedrals and the splendid Baroque churches - are a luminous sign of God, and thus are truly a manifestation, an epiphany of God.

Unfortunately, the boards of art institutions tend to be populated with well-meaning supporters of the arts who often lack any business background or appetite for imposing appropriate discipline.

I believe that if I committed to basketball, I could make an impact in the NBA. I now see football as my job and my greatest challenge.

No painting can exist without the tension of what it figures and what it concretely consists of. The pleasure of what it could mean and the pain of what it's not.

There is an intimate interdependence of intellect and morals.

I'm one of those people with restless hands. I need to be doodling, or biting my nails, or making socks.