Each memory is like a paper flower stowed up a magician's sleeve: invisible one moment and then so substantial and florid the next I cannot imagine how it stayed hidden all this time. And like those paper flowers, once they've been let loose in the world, the memories are impossible to tuck away again.

Sometimes knowing what's right isn't a rational decision, or even what works on paper. Sometimes leaving is the best course of action after all.

Just because fate had thrown another obstacle in my way didn't mean I had to give up my dreams.

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

The more you get past pain, the more it goes from coal to diamond.

Isn’t that what true romance is supposed to be about? Finding the person who’s your soul mate. Someone you dream about at night.Someone whose name is on your lips when you wake up in the morning.

If you were drifting with a thousand other people, could you really still say you were lost?