No one actually needs another person or another person's love to survive. Love is when we have irrationally convinced ourselves that we do.

A place isn't a place until it has a bookstore.

On, there are so many lives. How we wish we could live them concurrently instead of one by one by one. We could select the best pieces of each, stringing them together like a strand of pearls. But that's not how it works. A human life is a beautiful mess.

In a way, whoever you know in a certain place defines that place for you.

Life used to move much more quickly when I was a girl. We needed to abbreviate just to keep up.

The theme of the dance was "Great Romances," or some such nonsense. There were projections of supposedly great couples from the past on the walls of the gym. Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Hermione and Ron, Bonnie and Clyde, etc.

It wasn't even 8:00 yet. Pretty early for such deep thoughts.