“If you say you can't, you won't!The only thing holding you back from success is yourself.”

“You don't have to let his definition of success be yours”

“If he’s just not into you anymore, then buy yourself a cute pair of shoes and strut your fabulousness elsewhere.”

“Are you mad?" I ask."I was." He glances at the ceiling then back at me. "Or confused, anyway. The whole thing threw me through for a loop. I thought I'd finally met a guy at Underwood I could relate to, and it turns out he wasn't a guy at all."I swallow. "I can see how that would be weird." "In a way though, I was relieved.""Relieved?" I echo. "Why?"He looks around embarrased. "Let's just say you had me questioning my sexual orientation.”

“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”

“A note sat on the kitchen table. Shaya snatched it up and read:Shay,I'm taking Dev to the clinic, he's still sick. Didn't want to wake you, you were sleeping so soundly. Hope to be back early afternoon. Love, Mom PS – don't forget you're grounded”

“Maybe we won't have the beauty of a perfect summer. But neither do we have to endure the callousness of an uncaring winter. Instead, we can all look for our own spring- we can discover where God wants to use us. Do you hear the whisper of spring?”