Maybe there's a way to keep us in this moment. Not the sad part. But the coming together part.

Which is more stubborn, the love or the two arguing people caught within it?

I have taken advantage of other people's weaknesses in order to cover my own.

And I find myself saying, “It wasn’t really about her.” And finding it’s true. What do you mean?” Norah asks. It was about the feeling, you know? She caused it in me, but it wasn’t about her. It was about my reaction, what I wanted to feel and then convinced myself that I felt, because I wanted it that bad. That illusion. It was love because I created it as love.

She stays in the same spot, anchored by the profound, desperate loneliness of a bad relationship.

We do not start as dust. We do not end as dust. We make more than dust. That's all we ask of you. Make more than dust.

All I get is tomorrow.