A life isn't measured in hours and minutes. It's the quality, not the length.
Maybe if I'd been braver in that moment, I would have cried.
A place isn't a place until it has a bookstore.
He kissed me, though not in a sexy way. Gentle. Tender.
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.
It was odd to have something so personal out there in that way, but the good thing about art is that no one necessarily knows what you mean by it anyway.