I think when you fall in love, like true love, it’s love for life. All the rest is just experiences and delusions.

What you wear doesn't really matter much. All that matters is where you're going what you're doing while you're wearing it.

But the heart has a mind of its own and it always gets what it wants, especially when it's dying.

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.

When we pull away, he rests his hand on my thigh pressed next to his and we ride like that for a long time; the only time he moves his hand is to take better control of a sharp curve or to adjust the music, but he always puts it right back. And I always want him to.

You made me feel real emotions. You unlocked me.

There was no logic or any sense of purpose except that I knew I had to do something other than what I was doing, or I might not make it through this.