It's the imperfections that make things beautiful.

It’s hard to throw away history. It was like you were throwing away a part of yourself.

We stood there, looking at each other, saying nothing. But it was the kind of nothing that meant everything.

It feels strange to have spent much time wishing for something, for someone and then one day, suddenly, to just stop.

I loved the feeling of talking and having somebody really listen to what I have to say. It was like a high or something.

You can't put being in love on a scale. Either you are or you aren't.

Maybe that was how it was with all first loves. They own a little piece of your heart, always.