“What does a freelance researcher do?” “Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“Are you real?” Stupid. Of course he’s real. “Yes, Julie. I’m not the mystical man from your dreams.” — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“There comes a moment when we must choose how we’re going to love someone. Some forms of love leave a sweet memory once they’re… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“Perhaps we never stop loving someone. We just learn to move forward. To live without them because of them. Perhaps we let go to… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“Men tend to treat women as fragile creatures, but our bodies were built to withstand pain and hard work, think with profound insight. We… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“I twist and pin my hair at the nape of my neck, and then stand with legs wide. It’s what Nash told me to… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“Welcome to the apocalypse. Where make-do is a motto and life seems wrong, out-of-place. Where the weak become strong because they have no other… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“GOOD shouldn’t be used to describe a girl in any way. There are good books, good food, but not good girls.” — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“I’d rather not know what lies ahead because I like the dark. I like thinking there is something good in the places I can’t… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“What does a freelance researcher do?” “Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s not an… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“If a child falls and scrapes his knee, he does not say, “At least I didn’t break my leg.” He cries because pain causes… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“It wouldn’t be very ladylike to punch a guy in the balls, but it isn’t very manlike to harass a woman because she has… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“You see the world for what it is and what it could be,” Jack says. “What you don’t see is the gaping chasm in… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
“I know who you are,” Jack whispers. “I’ve always known you.” His hands glide up my arms, from the angles of my wrists to… — Caroline George Copy Share Image
