I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.

Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

No hot guys should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.

We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.

... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?

I'm layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE.