You take care of the people you love, but it’s true, too, that you take care of the things you own.

The scariest part of forever is that nothing is.

Each story, good and bad, short or long-from that trip to the mall when you saw Santa, to a long, bad illness-they are all a line or a paragraph in our own life manuscript. Two thirds of the way through, even, and it all won't necessarily make sense, but at the end there'll be a beautiful whole, where every sentence of every chapter fits.

So I put up with bad behavior in the name of loving the way I thought you were supposed to love.

I guess forgiveness, like happiness, isn’t a final destination. You don’t one day get there and get to stay.

Darkness does this. It finds all the places you are hiding in. It finds all the things you are holding onto tightly and makes you let go.

I tended to give a book a chance and another chance and another, sometimes seeing it all the way to the end, still hoping for for it turn out different. Maybe I was confused about what you owed a book. What you owed people, for that matter, real or fictional.