I still felt fondness for her - fondness, that pleasant, detached mix of admiration and sentiment, appreciation and nostalgia.

Trying to write about love is ultimately like trying to have a dictionary represent life. No matter how many words there are, there will never be enough.

I'm not a very happy person," I told him."But sometimes I can trick myself into thinking I am.

Life goes on. Get over it. You're still young. It'll get better. Blah, Blah, Blah

I had gotten so used to being alone, but never entirely used to it. Never used to it enough to stop wanting the alternative.

Life goes on is a redundancy. Life is defined by its going on.

You don't know me. You know one me, just like I know one you. And you can't know every me, and I can't know every you.