You can't go back to how things were. How you thought they were. All you really have is...now.

I’m going to be mentally ill in fifteen years, and that’s why my husband doesn’t want to be around me.

I'm listening to someone give up. Someone I knew—someone I liked. I'm listening... but still, I'm too late.

No one knows for certain how much impact they have on the lives of other people. Oftentimes, we have no clue. Yet we push it just the same.

And concentrating on the spot where the two spindles should be is the closest I get to looking Hannah's eyes as she tells my story.

How in the world was I alone? Because I wanted to be. That's all I can say. It's all that makes sense to me.

After all, how often do we get a second chance?