She has been hanging on to the hope of him for so long that she doesn't realize there isn't anything left to hope for.

He was my first boyfriend, and I made him my everything - he was my new life, my new love, my new compass point. I guess that's the danger with firsts - you lose all sense of proportion.

Maybe there is hope in the fragments, that what is lost can always be filled in by someone who knows.

I see no sin in a kiss. I only see sin in the condemnation

I want to take back at least half of the “I love you”s, because I didn’t mean them as much as the other ones.

I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

There is the sudden. There is the eventual. And in between, there is the living.