It was strange, really. A couple months ago, I had thought I couldn’t live without him. Apparently I could.

Love stories are written in millimeters and milliseconds with a fast, dull pencil whose marks you can barely see, they are written in miles and eons with a chisel on the side of a mountiantop

What were you like," I asked her. "we're you happy? Or were you smiling because they told you to?

Daddy always said that an option that you know to have a bad outcome is only a fool's option, i.e., not an option at all. And I liked to think that Daddy hadn't raised a fool.

Death is a state of mind---many people on Earth spend their entire lives dead.

Oh, all stories are the same, aren't they? Men and women fall in love or out of love. People are born; people die. It al ends happily or it all ends sadly, and the difference matters only to the people involved.

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