They weren't true stories; they were better than that.

That's the way love sounds, my mother told me. You think it should feel like honey, but instead it cuts like a knife.

It's not the lie that's the problem; it's the distance the lie forges between you.

I'm at the point where going forward is easier than going back.

At midnight the wind in the tress can sound like the ocean. The moonlight can make a road appear as endless as the sea.

The voice that arises out of the silence is something no one can imagine until it is heard. It roars when it speaks, it lies to you and convinces you, it steals from you and leaves you without a single word of comfort.

This was what it meant to be human, to know that time moved and all things changed.