We forgive and forget. At least I forgive and he forgets.

Exactly! We run or we lose ourselves in something, somebody, anything to try and ease our pain.

She knew whose love she doubted. It wasn't her parents' and it wasn't her friends: It was her own.

Starting is hard so I really need to give myself permission to do a bad job. I always give myself leave to write total nonsense for as long as I need to release the pressure, because it's really hard to start if you feel like that first sentence you write has to actually mean something.

Forget Jack, I'm in love with the cold, dirt floor.

You surround yourself with your pain or you avoid it and let it find you when you are trying to do other things

Bridget's anger evaporated and the sadness came back. The anger was easier. She owned and contolled it, whereas the sadness owned her.