If you play an audiotape of a yawn to blind people, they'll yawn too.
Sometimes the things we really want are right in front of us. We just don't see them.
Bryce," she whispers. "What's wrong. " I can barely breathe as I ask her, "Do you like him?" "Do I. . . you mean Jon?" "Yes!" "Well, sure. He's nice and -" "No, do you like him?" My heart was pounding through my chest as I took her other hand and waited. "Well, no. I mean, not like that. . . . " No! She said no! I didn't care where I was, I didn't care who saw. I wanted, just had to kiss her. I leaned in, closed my eyes, and then. . .
Then I saw Juli. She was two tables away from me, facing my direction. Only she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Jon, her eyes all sparkly and laughing. My heart lurched. What was she laughing about? What were they talking about? How could she sit there and look so. . . beautiful? I felt myself spinning out of control. It was weird. Like I couldn't even steer my own body. I'd always thought Jon was pretty cool, but right then I wanted to go over and throw him across the room.
I realize something. That wasn't a finish line for me. . . This is my new starting line.
Don't sum up a person based on what you see, or what you don't understand; get to know them
I liked it. I liked her. And every time I saw her, she seemed more beautiful. She just seemed to glow. I'm not talking like a hundred-watt bulb; she just had this warmth to her. Maybe it came from climbing that tree. Maybe it came from singing to chickens. Maybe it came from whacking at two-by-fours and dreaming about perpetual motion. I don't know. All I know is that compared to her, Shelly and Miranda seemed so. . . ordinary.
I want to clear up a few myths about myself. People have written that I was a kindergarten teacher and a former Miss Texas, and neither is true.
And then we were kissing. . . . . The space around us evaporated, and for a weird moment I rally like my body; this cancer-ruined thing I'd spent years dragging around suddenly seemed worth the struggle.
One should not say that it is impossible to reach a virtuous life; but one should say that it is not easy. Nor do those who have reached it find it easy to maintain.
Song like a rose should be; Each rhyme a petal sweet; For fragrance, melody, That when her lips repeat The words, her heart may know What secret makes them so. Love, only Love.