Love is tied to truth.

I hated cranberry sauce, but for some reason my mom persisted in her lifelong belief that it was my very favorite food, even though every single Thanksgiving I politely declined to include it on my plate.

I was a bit of a Victorian Lady, fainting-wise.

Margo's beauty was a kind of sealed vessel of perfection--uncracked and uncrackable.

You can't just make me different and then leave. You can't. You can't change me and make my whole life centered around you, then leave.

You could hold me and I could hold you. And it would be so peaceful. Completely peaceful. Like the feeling of sleep, but awake in it together.

One of those moments he knew he'd remember and look back on, one of those moments that he'd try to capture in the stories he told. Nothing was happening, really, but the moment was thick with mattering.