...because if you can make yourself happy in the rain then you're doing pretty alright in life.

It's the secret smile you get from knowing that, somewhere, there is someone who is yours. Not in the sense that you own her or control her. She is yours because you can say anything to her, whenever you need to. And she can do the same, whenever she needs to.

That's what the voices in your head are for, to get you through the silent parts.

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.

love is tied to truth. I think of them as unhappily conjoined twins.

Just because a person is beautiful doesn't mean there's no soul beneath. Doesn't mean that person hasn't suffered like everyone else, doesn't mean they don't hope to still be a good human being in an awful world.

And I, who have never thought in terms of a life, think to myself that I could make a life out of this.