Our faces were no more than ten inches apart but she was lightyears away from me.

What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.

When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.

We're both looking at the same moon, in the same world. We're connected to reality by the same line. All I have to do is quietly draw it towards me.

Whenever she felt like crying, she would instead become angry—at someone else or at herself—which meant that it was rare for her to shed tears.

Life's no piece of cake, mind you, but the recipe's my own to fool with.

I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it -- to be fed so much love I couldn't take any more. Just once.