You Must Walk Alone To Find Your

I Would Never Be Popular. I Didn't Want To Be; I Liked Being Shy. I'd Never Be The Smartest Or The Hottest Or The Happiest. By Eighth Grade You Start To Figure Out Your Limits.

Can't Escape Pain, Kiddo. Battle Through It And You Get Stronger.

I've Written In Every Imaginable Location; A Repurposed Closet, The Kitchen Table, The Bleachers While My Kids Had Basketball Practice, The Front Seat Of The Car When They Were At Soccer. In Airports. On Trains. In The Break Room When I Was Supposed To Be Wolfing Down Dinner. In The Back Of Classrooms When I Was Supposed To Be Paying Attention.

When People Don't Express Themselves, They Die One Piece At A Time. You'd Be Shocked At How Many Adults Are Really Dead Inside—walking Through Their Days With No Idea Who They Are, Just Waiting For A Heart Attack Or Cancer Or A Mack Truck To Come Along And Finish The Job. It's The Saddest Thing I Know.

I Knew It!" He Pumps A Fist Into The Air. "you've Fallen In Love With Me. You Want To Have My Babies. We'll Get A Team Of Horses And A Covered Wagon And We'll Journey To South America And Raise Goats.