It’s difficult to ever go back to the same places or people. You turn away, even for a moment, and when you turn back around, everything’s changed.

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

My beautiful Win. I wanted to kiss him on every last broken place, but his mother and my lawyer were there. So, instead I started to cry.

Intimacy doesn't have all that much to do with backseats of cars. Real intimacy is brushing your teeth together.

Covers matter. In my experience, a different cover can make you think you're reading an entirely different book.

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

We aren't the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on.