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A girl can tell I like her when I blush or start telling bad jokes.

We blush very, very easily, and we get terrified of audiences.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

I blush easily. I have difficulty meeting people's eye, difficulty with public speaking, the normal afflictions of the shy, but not to a paralysing degree.

The bold defiance of a woman is the certain sign of her shame, - when she has once ceased to blush, it is because she has too much to blush for.

I used to go red when anybody spoke to me. It's awful because you absolutely cannot control it. If you are a child that blushes, or is shy, the one thing you want in the world is to be the child who comes in and says, 'Hi,' to everyone and goes up and makes friends.

Girls love emotion.

I've always noticed that girls cry way easier than guys do.

Last time I blushed was when I smoothed my hands over the back of my dress and actually touched skin. Seems the material was tucked into my underwear, and everyone around me had gotten a show. This, of course, was at a romance writers' conference.

If I were the blushing kind, I would blush to be called a hero.