I have a theory that as long as you have one good friend, one real friend, you can get through anything.

We sat looking out at the ocean. There was just so much of it, and it never failed to take my breath away. Looking at the ocean gave me the same sensation I'd get staring at a sky full of stars- that I was small. Like the way a math problem reveals its undeniable truth, I knew when I stared into this sort of endlessness that my life didn't count for much of anything. And knowing that, that I was nothing but a speck, I felt pretty lucky for all that I had.

Some things you can fix, and some things you can't. And I just think it is a shame to walk away from the things you can.

When there's something or someone, when there's anything that makes you happy, you don't let a continent or an ocean or an empty pocket keep you apart

Precision about language can be really, really annoying. It can make you miss the point of what the other person is saying altogether.

Friends, I was pretty sure, lift their friends up; they don't weigh them down like a sack full of stones

The Little Drummer Boy was playing in the background for what seemed like the third time in a row. I fought off an urge to beat that Little Drummer Boy senseless with his own drumsticks.