To love--to fall--is not a question. To touch--to kiss--to speak--those are questions.

Even if you were green and had a beard and a male appendage between your legs. Even if your eyebrows were orange and you had a mole covering your entire cheek and a nose that poked me in the eye every time I kissed you. Even if you weighed seven hundred pounds and had hair the size of a Doberman under your arms. Even then, I would love you.

That's what it felt like - that if I let a little of the hurt out, it would keep pouring out until I was a deflated balloon of a person, with a big monster of hurt in front of me.

Then I go in the den and turn on Law & Order, since the only thing i can really count on in life is that whenever I turn on the TV, there will be a Law & Order episode.

It’s up to you, not fate. True. But it was also up to Lily. That was the trickiest part.

I guess I don't believe these things can ever be easy, although I also don't see why they have to be hard.

Part of growing up is making sure your sense of reality isn't entirely grounded in your own mind.