I think people can be trusted to know what makes them unhappy. Maybe we don't always know what we want exactly, but we can usually say what we don't with a fair amount of specificity.

My heart should be breaking, too, but there comes a point when you’re so inured to loss that you no longer feel the lash.

Once exposed, a secret loses all its power.

I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.

Men always want to be remembered whereas women realize that requires being dead.

My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.

Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels perfect pass in a wink, and those where you're on your knees in despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.