There's a strange sort of quiet when you're dying. It's as if you're in a glass room, and the walls keep getting thicker and thicker.

Intimacy doesn't have all that much to do with backseats of cars. Real intimacy is brushing your teeth together.

There's a pleasure to loving someone even when you know there's no chance in them loving you back. The pain I felt let me know I was still alive.

"I accept your condemnation," I said.

It's when you don't need something that you tend to lose it.

I wondered if the person who really loves you is the person who knows all your stories, the person who WANTS to know all your stories.

The casualities seemed to go on and on. Just when I thought I was done losing her, I would find yet another way to love her all over again.