Odd how intensely you knew a person, or thought you did, when you were in love-soaked, drenched in love-only to discover later that perhaps you didn't know that person quite as well as you had imagined.

I learned that night that love is never as ferocious as when you think it is going to leave you. We are not always allowed this knowledge, and so our love sometimes becomes retrospective.

That I have no right to be jealous is irrelevant. It is a human passion: the sick, white underbelly of love.

I thought about how one tiny decision can change a life. A decision that takes only a split second to make.

To leave, after all, was not the same as being left.

I have always been faithful to you if faithful means the experience against which everything else has been measured.

A person walks into a room and says hello, and your life takes a course for which you are not prepared. It's a tiny moment (almost-but not quite-unremarkable), the beginning of a hundred thousand tiny moments and some larger ones.