I'm not sure this is a world I belong in anymore. I'm not sure that I want to wake up.

That’s the thing you never expect about grieving, what a competition it is.

Please Mia," he implores. "Don't make me write a song.

Someone wake me when it's over When the evening silence softens golden Just lay me on bed of dover Oh, I need help with this burden "Hush

If I stay. If I live. It's up to me.

I don’t discount a magical hand of fate. I am an actor, after all, and a Shakespearian, no less. But it can’t be the ruling force of your life. You have to be the driver.

Willem, I suspect deep down you know exactly why you're here, exactly what you want, but you're unwilling to the wanting, let alone the having. Because both of those propositions are terrifying.