Anything worthwhile is tough.

There are two kinds of women--those who eat in a crisis and those who lose their appetite in a crisis.

Looking back, I question whether I really loved Nate, or just the security of our relationship. I wonder if my feelings for him didn’t have a lot to do with hating my job. From the bar exam through that first hellish year as an associate, Nate was my escape. And sometimes that can feel an awful lot like love.

Sorrow comes with so many defense mechanisms. You have your shock, your denial, your getting wasted, your cracking jokes, and your religion. You also have the old standby catchall—the blind belief in fate, the whole "things happening for a reason" drill.

You don't have to talk to someone to think about them and check up on them now and again.

i wish i could freeze this moment, somehow delay my final decision, and just hang here in the balance between two places, two worlds, two loves.

Then he continues his rant,saying, "And even if I didn't know them, I know their type." "And what type is that?" she asks,leaning foward in her chair,yearning for confirmation that he gets it,that they are like-minded in their observations of others and the circumspect way they view the world. "Oh,let's see," he says,rubbing his jaw. "Superficial.Artificial.Sheep. They're more worried about how they come across to others than who they really are.They exhaust themselves in their pursuit of things that don't really matter.