I don't know what it is about death that makes it so hard. I suppose it's the one-sided communication; the fact that we never get to ask our loved one if she suffered, if she is happy wherever she is now...if she is somewhere. It's the question mark that comes with death that we can't face, not the period.

Did you ever wonder if the person in the picture is the same one you see when you look in the mirror?" - "That's the eternal question, isn't it? Are we born who we are, or do we make ourselves that way?

I would tell them that when you look at a person, you never know what the're hiding.

How many times would I throw this away before I realized it was what I had been looking for all along?

Shooting stars are not stars at all. They re just rocks that enter the atmosphere and catch fire under friction. What we wish on when we see one is only a trail of debris.

Frankly, I wonder who Frank was, and why he has an adverb all to himself.

Whether or not you believe in Fate comes down to one thing: who do you blame when something goes wrong.