How can it be so unclear to her when it's like the fingers on my hand to me?

I’ve blamed her for all of this, for leaving, for ruining me. And maybe that was the seed of it, but from that one little seed grew this tumor of a flowering plant. And I’m the one who nurtures it. I water it. I care for it.I nibble from its poison berries. I let it wrap around my neck, choking the air right out of me. I’ve done that. All by myself. All to myself.

But the you who you are tonight is the same you I was in love with yesterday, the same you I’ll be in love with tomorrow.

It's ok if you want to stop fighting.

But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut.

I think everything is happening all the time, but if you don't put yourself in the path of it, you miss it. When you travel, you put yourself out there. It's not always great. Sometimes it's terrible. But other times ... [...] It's not so bad.

It was selfish what I asked her to do, even if it wound up being the most unselfish thing I've ever done.