Love, no matter how it's expressed, is still love. We all have flaws, and so our love will be flawed. But that doesn't diminish it.

I still wasn't convinced that tossing a shoe didn't mean you harbored an anger-management problem, but I did understand love now. How it wrapped around you and made you more aware of the prickles on your skin, the roots of your hair, the intensity of every touch and every inch of you. It was like life on hi-def. Everything was sharper.

Our relationship felt like a Christmas gift that you hadn't asked for and weren't expecting to receive, but the minute you saw it, you knew it was perfect for you.

You need to decide whether you're willing to risk being hurt, plain and simple. You can go for it and have a wonderful relationship. Or you might go for it and crash and burn brilliantly. It's up to you if you want to take that risk, up to you if it's worth it or not.

Scars fade with time. And the ones that never go away, well, they build character, maturity, caution.

Literature wasn't intended to be about perfect people, it was about flaws, very real and very deep human flaws.

I want you to know that you're the hottest biscuit this side of the gravy boat.