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?

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.

It was a nice day, and I don't mean that it was sunny either. It was humid and not too cool, like winter was getting annoyed with itself and wanted it to be spring just as much as everyone else.

Eye contact made people think you were being truthful even if you weren't.

Sometimes books don't find us until the right time.

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

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