I don't want to fall. All I want to do is stand on solid ground.

I am so used to hints and mixed messages, saying things that might mean what they sort of sound like they mean. Games and contests, roles and rituals, talking in twelve languages at once so the true words won't be so obvious. I am not used to a plainspoken, honest truth.

If goodness can't come from bad things, it makes bad things unbearable.

New Yorkers love the bigness -- the skyscrapers, the freedom, the lights. But they also love it when they can carve out some smallness for themselves. When the guy at the corner store knows which newspaper you want. When the barista has your order ready before you open your mouth. When you start to recognize the people in your orbit, and you know that, say, if you're waiting for the subway at eight fifteen on the dot, odds are the redhead with the red umbrella is going to be there too.

I never felt the urge to jump off a bridge, but there are times I have wanted to jump out of my life, out of my skin.

My pride shut me up, my hurt shut me down, and together they ganged up on my hope and let her get away.

I would always wait to take you home.