It was so damn hard to find love in this world, to locate someone who could make you feel that there was a reason you'd been put on this earth. A child, I imagined, was the purest form of that. A child was the love you didn't have to look for, didn't have to prove anything to, didn't have to worry about losing. Which is why, when it happened, it hurt so badly.

I wish I could tell him I understand: the higher you raise your hopes, the farther you have to fall.

If you loved someone, really loved them, would you let them go?

What's worse ...? The devil you don't know ... or the devil you do?

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.

I think people do things all the time in the name of love that they shouldn't be doing - such is the nature of us.

When you love someone, you don't see parts of him you don't like.