The things we respond to at twenty are not necessarily the same things we will respond to at forty and vice versa. This is true in books and also in life

Maybe if I'd been braver in that moment, I would have cried.

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.

I don't believe in writer's block.

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

But I wondered if all this kissing was a bad habit with him and me. The thing we did with our mouths instead of talking.

That Woman is in love with her own grief.