Life tells you to take the elevator, but love tells you to take the stairs.

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.

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 could point out that it isn't always easy knowing who you are and what you want, because then you have no excuse for not trying to get it.

You're giving up. You're slipping into being miserable and if you are being miserable, then it's all about you again. But it's not all about you. Love doesn't work that way.

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.

it's the belief, not the words, that mean everything. it's the floating.