You ever have that feeling? Like you’ve known someone your whole life but you don’t know them at all.

After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.

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

Show, not tell, right? Action, not words. You don’t want to hear how sorry I am or how things will be different this time. You want to see it with your own eyes. And until I can show you that, you won’t tell me what I want to hear.

. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.

I’m sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.

It's only a sure defeat when you stop trying.