I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sleep, seeing a perfect reproduction of himself, comes to be united with his facsimile.

It's funny how we like labels. If I ever have a bookstore, I'm not going to put any labels on the sections.

It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.

I'm at a loss because I am in love with a man who is standing before me with no memories of me at all. (Time Traveler's Wife)

I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way.

Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home. Clare sighs, turns her head, and is quiet. Hi, honey. I'm home. I'm home.

When it's over you look up: the world looks the same but you are somehow different and that feeling lingers for days.