“We shouldn't be doing this." Dan broke the silence, his voice low. "We would both get in trouble." He stood up. "Let's go back.""We shouldn't be doing what?" I scrambled to my feet. "What exactly are we doing?""This.""You mean consorting?""Sure, consorting. Cavorting. Carousing." He paused to take a deep breath."Kissing." Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.”

“Throughout it all, you are still, always, you: beautiful and bruised, known and unknowable.”

“I think love without heartbreak is a myth. A pretty myth, but the kind of myth that ultimately makes us feel worse about ourselves because we're somehow not able to make it come true.”

“Nobody is so busy that they can't make time for the people they really care about.”

“There were people in this world who didn't know how to take care of others. There were people who walked away even when they'd made a promise to stand by you. There were people who threw around the word love but only acted on it when it was convenient for them.”

“Because before the time when you're heartbroken, you get to be in love, and that's worth it.”

“Well, you can't have heartbreak without love," Dan pointed out. "If your heart was really broken, then at least you know you really loved him.”

“History doesn't intend to have some particular emotional value, or any particular moral. History doesn't have any intentions at all. It's just a never-ending web of events that can have pretty much any meaning at all. But we, in retrospect, make this web into a story that makes sense. We superimpose onto it a beginning, middle, and end. We decide who the main characters are, the good guys and the bad guys. We decide what the moral of the story is, and how everyone is supposed to feel about it.""But history is facts," I said. "It's not a matter of opinion.""To a certain extent," Dad granted. "The facts matter, to a certain extent. You can't create a story without some facts to base it on. But what 'really happened' doesn't matter. What matters is how we agree to remember it.”

“If you're going to have the tortured soul of an artist, then you might as well create some art while you're at it.”

“Why did you do this?" He was shaking. "Just tell me why."I tried to muster up some of the righteous indignation that I'd felt on Friday night as I said, "You knocked over my gravestone!" But even to my ears the words sounded tinny and pathetic.Dan's face was pale. "It was just a gravestone, Chelsea. And it was a mistake. I told you that already, and I meant it. I've never lied to you. My God, can't you tell the difference between a gravestone and a person you love? Can't you tel which one matters?"But if I had to point to the real problem in my life, it's that I've never known the difference between a gravestone and a person I love. I have never known which is which until it's too late. "All's fair in love and war," I reminded him, aiming for Tawny's tone. But my voice came out sounding just like me."Oh, yeah? And which is this?" he asked. "Love or war?”

“When you die, you just die. No ghost, no reincarnation, no heaven. People want to believe that their souls live on or whatever, but that's only because they can't handle the idea of the world going on without them.”