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.

And so a person can never promise to love someone forever because you never know what might come up, what terrible thing the person you love might do.

I wonder this: If you take a woman and push her to the edge, how will she behave?

To ward off a feeling of failure, she joked that she could wallpaper her bathroom with rejection slips, which she chose not to see as messages to stop, but rather as tickets to the game.

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

the enduring struggle to capture in words the infinite possibilities of a life not lived.

Is imagination dependent upon experience, or is experience influenced by imagination?