The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

When I had finished, his face changed into a "serious talk" face.
     "Do you always think this much, Charlie?"
     "Is that bad?" I just wanted someone to tell me the truth.
     "Not necessarily. It's just that sometimes people use thought to not participate in life." p. 24


     "Charlie, we accept the love we think we deserve." p. 24


...Then, Patrick pointed at me, and said something to Bob.
     "He's something, isn't he?"
     Bob nodded his head. Patrick then said something I don't think I'll ever forget.
     "He's a wallflower."
     And Bob really nodded his head. And the whole room nodded their head. And I started to feel nervous in the Bob way, but Patrick didn't let me get too nervous. He sat down next to me.
     "You see things. You keep quiet about them. And you understand."
     I didn't know that other people thought things about me. I didn't know they looked. I was sitting on the floor of a basement of my first real party between Sam and Patrick, and I remembered that Sam introduced me as her friend to Bob. And I remembered that Patrick had done the same for Brad. And I started to cry. p.37-38


     Sam looked at me soft. And she hugged me. And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms. And she kissed my cheek and whispered so nobody could hear.
     "I love you."
     I knew she meant it in a friend way, but I didn't care because it was the third time since my Aunt Helen died that I heard it from anyone. The other two times were from my mom.
     After that, I couldn't believe that Sam actually got me a present because I thought that the "I love you" was it. But she did get me a present. And for the first time, something nice like that made me smile and not cry. ... She took me to her room and stood me in front of her dresser, which was covered in a pillowcase with pretty colors. She lifted off the pillowcase, and there I was, standing in my old suit, looking at an old typewriter with a fresh ribbon. Inside the typewriter was a piece of white paper.
     On that piece of white paper, Sam wrote, "Write about me sometime." And I typed something back to her, standing right there in her bedroom. I just typed.
     "I will."
     And I felt good that those were the first two words that I ever typed on my new old typewriter that Sam gave me. We just sat there quiet for a moment, and she smiled. And I moved to the typewriter again, and I wrote something.
     "I love you, too."
     And Sam looked at the paper, and she looked at me.
     "Charlie...have you ever kissed a girl?"
     I shook my head no. It was so quiet.
     "Not even when you were little?"
     I shook my head no again. And she looked very sad.
     She told me about the first time she was kissed. She told me that it was with one of her dad's friends. She was seven. And she told nobody about it except for Mary Elizabeth and then Patrick a year ago. And she started to cry. And she said something that I won't ever forget. Ever.
     "I know that you know that I like Craig. And I know that I told you not to think of me that way. And I know that we can't be together like that. But I want you to forget all those things for a minute. Okay?"
     "Okay."
     "I want to make sure that the first person you kiss loves you. Okay?"
     "Okay." She was crying harder now. And I was, too, because when I hear something like that I just can't help it.
     "I just want to make sure of that. Okay?"
     "Okay."
     And she kissed me. It was that kind of kiss that I could never tell my friends about out loud. It was the kind of kiss that made me know that I was never so happy in my whole life. p. 69-70


I don't know how much longer I can keep going without a friend. I used to be able to do it very easily, but that was before I knew what having a friend was like. It's much easier not to know things sometimes. p. 144


... because things change. And friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody. p.145


I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people. Maybe that is what makes people "participate." p.169


All I cared about was the fact that Sam got really hurt. and I guess I realized at that moment that I really did love her. Because there was nothing to gain, and that didn't matter. p.179


     And that was that. Bill didn't try to make sure that I would see him next year if I needed anything. He didn't ask me why I was crying. He just let me hear what he had to say in my own way and let things be. That was probably the best part. p 182


     When I was driving home, I just thought about the word "special." And I thought that the last person who said that about me was my aunt Helen. I was very grateful to have heard it again. Because I guess we all forget sometimes. And I think everyone is special in their own way. I really do. p. 182


I love my mom so much. I don't care if that's corny to say. I think on my next birthday, I'm going to buy her a present. I think that should be the tradition. The kid gets gifts from everybody, and he buys one present for his mom since she was there, too. I think that would be nice. p.189


It's strange the times people choose to be generous. p. 196


     "Charlie, I told you not to think of me that way nine months ago because of what I'm saying now. .... Not because I didn't think you were great. It's just that I don't want to be somebody's crush. If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don't want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too. I want them to be able to do whatever they want around me. And if they do something I don't like, I'll tell them." p.201


So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe we'll never know most of them. But even if we don't have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them. p.211


Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Like Sam said. Because it's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them.
p. 212

Chesapeake Blue by Nora Roberts

It was strange how grief could hide inside you. Like a virus, lying low for months, even years, only to spring out and leave you weak and helpless again. p. 131


"...they turned their world around for me, and because of it, turned mine around with it. ...They made a home for me, and nothing that happened before matters nearly as much as everything that came after." p. 156


Intimacy, she'd always believed, took courage as well as desire. p. 214


"... Time just goes by, no matter what the hell you do. Some things you let go. Some things are worth repeating." p. 346

The Eye of the World: Book One by Robert Jordan

Sometimes you have to take a chance, even if it's a poor one. page 109


Anything can be a weapon, if the man or woman who holds it has the nerve and will to make it so. page 144


There must be a difference in what you saw, it seemed to him, depending on whether you sought adventure or had it forced on you. page 163


Take life as it comes. Run when you have to, fight when you must, rest when you can. page 380


"Ila was giving me advice on being a woman," Egwene  replied absently. ......
    " Advice! Nobody tells us how to be men. We just are."
    "That, " Egwenesaid, "is probably why you make such a bad job of it." page 388


It was easier to be brave, he discovered, when someone needed your protection. page 630


"Peace favor your sword." ....
     "What a strange thing to say," Egwene said. "Why do they use it like that? Peace."
     "When you have never known a thing except to dream," Lan replied, heeling Mandarb forward, "it becomes more that a talisman." page 665