Her mouth is always on the verge of a smile. It makes her look like there's always something amazing she needs to tell me, even when it's just hello.

Campbell" Julia says "Don't do this to me" "Do what?" "Push me off the same cliff twice

The best thing about endings is knowing that just ahead is the daunting task to start over.

She stares at me for a moment, and then she bursts out laughing. “You haven’t seen his perfect little wife and his perfect little girls. Believe me, Oliver, I’m not the great love of his life, the one he’ll never forget.” “You are to me,” I say.

I can get 400 pages down the road and still not know the answer. What I do know is that I have really examined every facet of the situation, and I may not have changed my opinion but I have definitely forced myself to explore why it's my opinion.

Was there a language of loss? Did everyone who suffered speak a different dialect?

It does'nt matter who forgives you, if you're the one who can't forget.