We find heroes, not on battlefields, but in hospitals that tend the injured. Sometimes I think it’s easier to fight than it is to heal.
What was the good of having such a fine home if you weren't willing to fight for it?
Sometimes I miss the old me.
Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.
I’d never known it was possible to love as he did— with complete devotion yet devoid of promises.
There were different kinds of strength. I knew that now. It didn't always come from a knife or a willingness to fight. Sometimes it came from endurance, where the well ran deep and quiet. Sometimes it came from compassion and forgiveness.