He has no idea how beautiful the ordinary becomes once it disappears.

Because it is senior year I have begun to see things as potential absences. The things I love will become the things I'll miss.

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

The truth feels different from other things. The closest you can come to describing it is that it feels like taking a perfect breath.

Let’s always love each other, and never be in love with each other.

I had always felt that mittens were a few steps back on the evolutionary scale-- why, I wondered, would we want to make ourselves into a less agile version of lobster.

I never have people tell me their stories. I usually have to figure them out myself. Because I know that if people tell me stories, they will expect them to be remembered. And I cannot guarantee that. There is no way to know if the stories stay after I'm gone. And how devastating would it be to confide in someone and have the confidence disappear? I don't want to be responsible for that.