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 accept your condemnation," I said.

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

We are not quite novels. We are not quite short stories. In the end, we are collected works

It's sad when you think about it, but also kind of beautiful.

Sometimes things seem so unbearable in the middle of the night, don't they? In the middle of the night, we're all such children.

Betty inhales sharply, 'It's just I thought I had lost you forever.' Oh, Betty, don't you know there's no such thing as forever?