It turns out that sharing the past with someone is different from reliving it when you’re alone. It feels less like a wound, more like a poultice.

The hardest thing in the world is believing someone can change. It's always easier to go along with the way things are than to admit that you might have been wrong in the first place.

when you want something so desperately, you shake with the need for it. you tell yourself that you don't need more than one sip, because it's just the taste you crave, and once it's on your tongue you will be able to make it last alifetime. you dream of it at night. you see a thousand mile-high obstacles between where you stand and what you want, and you convince yourself you have the power to hurdle them. you tell yourself this even when, leaping the first block, you wind up bruised and bloodied and flattened.

This is what I like about photographs. They're proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.

There's a lot of things you can't see if you aren't' looking.

In the custom of mourning, the fabric of the night had been ripped, revealing a star at each tiny tear.

Nathaniel closes his eyes and jumps, his arms glued to his sides like that fly's. He doesn't try to break his fall, just hits hard, because it hurts less than everything else.