There is no word for the recipient of the love. There is only a word for the giver. There is the assumption that lovers come in pairs.

I can take everything on her face at face value, and that's valuable in a friend.

A photograph it a souvenir of a memory. It is not a moment. It is the looking at the photograph that becomes the moment. Your own moment.

I had forgotten this about love: how the simple things- the turn away, the turn towards- could be so complicated, and how the complicated things- the stolen night, the right words- could be so simple.

I guess it's a choice we make," she said. "What's a choice?" I asked. And she said, "How much of the world we let in.

If smart people are parodying it, that's a sure sign that some less smart people are believing it.

She is my first and only love. Most people know that their first love will not be their only love. But for me, she is both.