You'd think someone who'd been to medical school would be able to hear through a stethoscope that somebody was empty inside.

I know you love me. The question is, how much?

The process of growing up was nothing more than figuring out what doors hadn't yet been slammed in your face.

My mother... she is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.

There are some nights when you just want to know there's someone else besides you in this wide world.

There's always going to be bad stuff out there. But here's the amazing thing -- light trumps darkness, every time. You stick a candle into the dark, but you can't stick the dark into the light.

let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: it solidfies into something wlaw. not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. no, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tounge that you realize this is angel in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measyred and spread.