Anger and hatred, when left unfed, bleed away like air from a punctured tire, over time and days and years. Forgiveness is stealth.

You don't swing at any pitch. You swing at the ones you can hit.

Maybe Rachel was right all along. Maybe the past is past, history is history, and you just push it aside and look for the future.

In baseball, when you get into the batter's box, that's it. It's just you. It's one man against the world. All that matters in that moment is your individual achievement and your individual skill. There is literally nothing that anyone else on your team can do for you. Hell, they're all sitting on the bench, waiting to see what happens, just like the fans in the crowd! It's just you and your bat. And the ball.

One time you told me that the opposite of love isn't hate. And I didn't understand that, but I think I do know. Because if you hate someone, you most still care, right? You have to care a little bit; otherwise you would just ignore them and forget they even live. Or lived.

...She's not buying [the lie], but there's nothing else on the shelves.

This is why I forgive, but I don't forget. When you forget someone, the forgiveness doesn't mean anything anymore.