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

I know there are epic tales of romance, where love means you're supposed to die. Where it's all about sacrifice. But I don't want to die. I don't want Stephen to die. I'm looking for the scenario where we both get to live. Where we can continue this marvel that is love and discovery and trust.

I had no idea what I wanted, only that I wanted something, which is the worst kind of wanting.

Feeling someone else's anger is bad; being left alone is worse.

There is no such thing as no choice. There is always a choice. The only question is whether it's a bearable one.

This is the trap of having something to live for: Everything else seems lifeless.