He was only twenty-five.He was young enough to miss his youth just as it was slipping away. The worst kind of loss-the one that is happening as you feel it.

I'm in love with someone good and kind and gentle, and he's seen the darkness too, but somehow we've become each other's light.

I don't see what's so good about being genuine. Clog dancing is genuine. Isn't being fake more of an achievement? At least it takes some inspiration. Like, sherbet dips, they're a special food. Think of all the additives and coloring and grinding that it takes to create a sherbet dip. But carrots? They're just out there, shrieking, "Hi, we're some carrots! Love us for it!" They never have to prove themselves.

In other words, it was a struggle with himself. And the product of that struggle: anger, bitterness, resentment, envy or transformation, aspiration, hope, decency..the product of that struggle is the quality of your life and the nature of your soul.

I still believe that you truly find yourself not in travel, but in other human souls.

No one ever loved you like him. And no one ever took it away so completely. But it's here. Look around.

I want you to stay. I never want there to be a time when we don't share space.