Every fiction has its base in fact.

Whoever said that the past isn't dead had it backward. It's the future that's already dead, already played out.

Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that’s what it’s like, I wouldn’t mind.

I'll be your mess, you be mine That was the deal that we had signed

...the world feels so big when you're out in the wide open. It's like you don't have a place in it when you don't have a home." "Your place is right here," I whispered, laying down and hugging her close.

Sometimes you can't know until you know.

You meet people, you part ways, sometimes you cross paths again. Mostly, you don't.