All of us create our own versions of an event, of our lives, even, not because were liars, necessarily, but because we can only see and understand the truth from our own viewpoint, and a shifting viewpoint at that.

When you're not sure whether you're in love with someone or not, the answer is not.

Hope could be the most powerful thing or the most useless.

Hurt is a weapon. Better weapon than most because it doesn't look like one.

We are thickly layered, page lying upon page, behind simple covers. And love - it is not the book itself, but the binding.

To an untrained eye, need and love were as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

... But then again, a person could turn ugly. Their actual look could change when their actions were repulsive.