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.

Honey, nobody ever knows someone completely. You have to just enjoy what you do know and have faith in the rest.

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

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

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.

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

I think perfect love is any time you love unconditionally, without selfish intent, without concern for personal gain.