I think that if past lives are real then we have been lovers in every single one of them. I've known you for a short time, but I feel like I've known you forever.

A bus ride is like being in another world.

Two people unable to cry finally cry together and in the world ended today, we would be fulfilled.

And when someone grows up knowing so little of what real love feels like, whether from family, or friends, or the love of a companion, that person starts to believe that they weren’t meant to be loved, that good things will never happen to them. They start to believe that whenever something good does happen, it’s inevitable that something bad will come along to replace it.

He never leaves my side. And I know he never will.

Yesterday I thought about why I felt the need to get up at exactly the same time as the day before and do everything I did the day before. Why? What compels any of us to do the things we do when deep down a part of us just wants to break free from it all?

Well, everybody needs help feeling alive again every once in a while.” “No,” she says seriously, and my gaze falls back on hers, “I didn’t say again, Andrew; for making me feel alive for the first time.