I love the smell of Waffle House; it's the smell of freedom, being on the open road and knowing that ninety percent of the people eating around you are also on that road. Truck driver's, road-trippers, hangovers--those who don't live that monotonous life of society slavery.

You’re the world to me,” I whisper onto her lips. “I hope you never forget that.” “I’ll never forget,” she whispers back.. “But if I ever do, for whatever reason, I hope you’ll always find a way to remind me.” ...“Always.

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.

To lovers and dreamers and anyone who hasn’t truly experienced either.

I'm not sure what it is that I want, but I feel it deep in the pit of my stomach. It's there sitting dormant. I'll know it when I see it.

Well, I suppose he’s stuck with you forever then.” “Yes, and forever is a very long time.” He pauses and then says, “Well, for the record, something tells me he wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s my future and my life and I can’t make myself live the way someone else wants me to.