There are just as many stories to be told in the dark spots s there are in the bright ones.

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.

When it comes to memories, the good and the bad never balance.

You would wind up as a cat, I told her. They don't need anyone else. I need you, she replied. Well, I said. Maybe I'll come back as catnip.

The night is falling down around us. Meteors rain like fireworks, quick rips in the seam of the dark... Every second, another streak of silver glows: parentheses, exclamation points, commas - a whole grammar made of light, for words too hard to speak.

That's why we read fiction, isn't it? To remind us that whatever we suffer, we're not the only ones?

I think her flaws make me love her even more. She's not perfect, but she's perfect to me