Quotes from Jennifer Weiner

a concentration of young people who wanted to open their minds

sing the prettiest songs

F.E.A.R. Stood for face everything and recover

Erect, it had been more impressive, a novel juxtaposition of hard and soft, with its glove of silky skin that slid against the stiff, veined flesh underneath.

I believed in newspapers' mission, the importance of their role as a watchdog, holding the powerful accountable, comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable.

One of its ears stuck straight up, the other flopped as it ran, and I remembered something I'd read somewhere—that when God sees a dog he likes, he folds one of its ears down to remember it.

Sometimes at night when we were watching TV, he would speak to his belly as if it were a pet, giving it a little pat and asking, "A little popcorn? Another beer?

The problem was, he'd never told me what he wanted, which meant I never got to think about whether it was what I wanted, too.

Social media means we're listening to different voices. It's not just the same old powerful white men who all went to the same places for college. It means everyone gets a soapbox. And if you've got something important to say, you can get people to listen.

I knew what it was like to be the center of Drew Cavanagh's universe. How her regard could make you feel like the brightest, shiniest, sharpest, most perfect version of yourself. And how she could turn an ordinary day into an adventure.

Sometimes the point isn't to end up with something worth showing the world. Sometimes it's just rehearsal.

champagne and apricot nectar with a squeeze of lime

it was a metaphor for my life, maybe for every woman's life. You fall, you get hurt, you get up again.

A writer wasn't a body, just a byline. My words would be sharp and spiky, punchy and pointed; my stories would be swift and lean, sleek and enviable, moving fast and hitting hard. I would not, I vowed, write like a fat girl.

Her anecdotes had a polished quality, like she had read a book on what could possibly make a beautiful girl sound sympathetic and memorized the answers.

Here we have filet of roasted halibut, caught this morning right here in Cape Cod Bay. It's pan-seared in a sauce of black garlic, blistered cherry tomatoes, and shishito peppers, both from Longnook Farms, served over a bed of coconut-lime rice with sautéed bok choy. She set the second dish down in front of Diana. Here we have a confit of Maple Hill Farm duck leg and roasted duck breast in a balsamic-fig reduction, served over sweet-potato hash, with local roasted ramps.

the world was not a rancid bag of garbage. At least, it wasn't just that. There was happiness, too.

mom with a part-time (inching

I'm probably mangling this quote from Oscar Wilde, who said he saved his truest genius for his life—that his life was his real work of art. That was Drue. She had a genius for living.

little victory over the voice that had lived in my head since I was six years old, telling me I was fat, disgusting, unworthy of love, unworthy of friendship, unworthy of existing in public, even of walking outside; that a girl who looked like me did not deserve to have fun.

College didn't erase the differences between how everyone grew up, but it disguised those differences—

face and figure from my dad's mother, Grandma Sadie, who was tall

Someone had come in and mopped the floor, and the disinfectant smell was

seventeen, tells her