Home isn't a place. Home is the people who love you most, the people who will always love you, forever and ever, no matter what.

Home is the people who love you.

Home isn't a place. It's not having a bed to come home to, or a yard, or a Christmas tree at the holidays. Home is the people who love you.

Sometimes, the most dangerous people were the ones you trusted most.

Nothing hurts you unless you let it.

Dance it off.

Celine snorted. “Never have I ever had a thing for blondes,” she said. And then, her eyes on Sloane, she shot our statistician a dazzling smile and lowered her own finger —meaning that she did have a thing for blondes.