The Best Gifts Come From The Heart,

Love Can Make Up For A Lot.

He Was Looking At Me, Jsut As I'd Thought He Would Be, But Like Bert's, His Light Was Not What I Expected. No Pity, No Sadness: Nothing Had Changed. I Realized All The Times I'd Felt People Stare At Me, Their Faces Had Been Pictures, Abstracts. None Of Them Were Mirrors, Able To Reflect Back The Expression I Thought One I Wore, The Feelings Only I Felt.

I Wasn’t Ready To Think About The Other Yet: That It Wasn’t That I Wasn’t Right For Macon, But That Maybe He Wasn’t Right For Me. There Was A Difference. Even For Someone Who Things Didn’t Come Easy For, Someone Like Me.

I Had Stepped Into His Arms, Showing Him My Raw, Broken Heart.

Each Time, I Think I'm Never Going To Write Another Book. It Never Gets Easier.