My mother... She is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.

Disaster was an avalanche, gathering speed with such acceleration that you worried more about getting out of its path, not finding the pebble at its center.

Forgiving isn't something you do for someone else. It's something you do for yourself. It's saying, 'You're not important enough to have a stranglehold on me.' It's saying, 'You don't get to trap me in the past. I am worthy of a future.

Hope is what makes you look outside the window to see if it's stopped raining. Hope is what makes you believe he'll text you back. Hope is why you buy your jeans a little tight... Hope is why you get out of bed in the morning, and why you dream at night. Hope is what makes us believe that things can only get better. Hope is what keeps us going.

Memories aren't stored in the heart or the head or even the soul, if you ask me, but in the spaces between any given two people.

When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.