What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.

The problem with you is that you always see a glass of milk half empty instead of half filled.

I have a sister, so I know-that relationship, it's all about fairness: you want your sibling to have exactly what you have-the same amount of toys, the same number of meatballs on your spaghetti, the same share of love. But being a mother is completely different. You want your child to have more than you ever did. You want to build a fire underneath her and watch her soar. It's bigger than words.

The truth doesn't always set you free; people prefer to believe prettier, neatley wrapped lies

I once heard someone on a bus say that this guy had gotten under her skin. And it struck me as a remarkable thought - that someone would affect you so deeply they'd always be a part of you.

You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.

Does fate ever play by the rules?