Quotes from Justina Chen

Take what you have and just make it the best it could be.

That" — Jacob took my hand in his and squeezed — "that would be ideal." He didn't let go. Neither did I.

eyeing my face in that same accusatory way I've seen my entire life. As if I had begged in vitro for a birthmark, this personal affront to his sanitized, temperature-controlled world.

I can do that," I said. "Let me feel helpful." So I let go of the handle, knowing how immobilizing helplessness was.

While their hotel room was clean, it was also stifling, too small for four people, especially with disappointment crowding in with us.

Do you know where the word 'itinerary' comes from?" Jacob asked as I scanned my perfectly formatted document of opening times and tips on how to bypass long lines and which routes to take during prime drive times. "What does this have to do with anything?" I countered. "Everything. It's from Latin, for 'journeys.' So trust me. You'll have fun.

What was the point of being an adult if you couldn't control your master plan?

You know there are better ways to meet a guy then running him over.

Jacob didn't exactly smile, but his last look at me from inside the cab was nothing short of smoldering. My lips tingled in response, as if it was his soft mouth, not his eyes, that had just raked me. The cab pulled away from the curb. Mom sighed. I would have sighed, too, except I didn't want to be one of those pathetic girls who pined for their boyfriends . . . even though I was pining. And worrying.

For all its cleanliness — not a weed in sight — the place was bankrupt of anything beautiful. But it wasn't just the orphanage. All the surrounding buildings were dismal gray, as though beauty were a frivolity of the rich.

I saw Mom the way she had been and could have been and was becoming in these days free of Dad.

If Jacob was right and clothes were costumes and makeup a mask, then our attitudes and habits must be our shields. Isn't that what compulsive eating was for Mom? And round-the-clock work for Merc? And Dad's meanness, his sniping, his criticism — wasn't that just a front to cover his shame? His humiliation?

Instead, he had given me a new term to describe the heavy layers that I had built in the Land of Beauty, one on top of the other: pentimenti. "It's from the Latin," he had said in that growly voice of his. "To repent. And correct.

I thought about Mom as she huffed at my side, trying so hard to keep up. How many times had I wanted to cringe when she begged Dad for every little thing: extra money for Christmas groceries so the boys could have their favorite meal — filet mignon for Claudius, rack of lamb for Merc. The car to bring me to the dermatologist. She never asked for anything for herself, yet without any hesitation, she'd humble herself for us.

If there was one thing I learned from Lydia and the rest of the Twisted Sisters, it was that artists do not cower. They live to make statements

Anyone who's been under someone's thumb can tell you that power, true power, is never about size or looks.

What were those but maps that charted women's journeys as they traversed the rocky terrain separating girl from woman? Our maps, our histories, our reminders of how we found our truest selves?

because she was scared of what people in the Land of Beautiful might say or think about her face. Let them say what they want. Leave Terra Bella to the shallow, and claim the world for your own. The entire world, that's what I wanted. I wanted to travel it, experience it, revel in it. Abraham Ortelius made history in 1570 with his Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, the Theatre of the World, the first modern atlas of Earth as was known and catalogued at that moment.

I didn't want blind defiance to define me. Not anymore.

Throughout history, wars were won and lost based on maps — who had the best maps, who had the inaccurate ones, who owned the boundary lines, who knew the terrain. And I knew the terrain of my family intimately, our private fears, our embarrassing weaknesses, our cached secrets.

Even overeating — like Mom — wasn't that a rebellion that in the end only hurt us?

Mom doing things for herself was the best souvenir we could have brought back from China.

I had never defined myself as beautiful. I'd never be classically beautiful, never be modelesque. But I could see what the people who loved me saw.

Let the glossy spreads have their heart-stopping, head-turning kind of beauty. Give me the heart-filling beauty instead.