They never played games with each other, they never had tow worry where they stood, because if either of them had a moment of wavering, the other would say I love you and would mean it and all doubts were forgiven because in this one case it was found that love conquers all.

Things are not magical because they've been conjured for us by some outside force. They are magical because we create them.

I couldn't fault her for believing, because I had to imagine i was nice to have that illusion still intact.

Every you, every me. Fractals. Fractures.

When he talked to you, you seemed to fit in, but when someone else was talking, or he would be distracted, you jsut looked lonely over there. At least to me. But whenever I would tell you that, you'd say "I'm fine. I just slip out of it, you know?" And I'd say "I'll catch you," and you would say, "It's not the kind of slipping you can catch.

The word I think of is precarious. I am struck by how precarious it all is. How the things that hold us are only as strong as the faith we have in them.

The minute I knew I was in love was the minute when there was no question about it.