We're all clichés, all following scripts that have been written and played out long before we landed the role.

The thing about living alone is that it gives you a lot of time to think. You don't necessarily reach any conclusions, because wisdom is largely a function of intelligence and self-awareness, not time on your hands. But you do become very good at thinking yourself into endless loops of desperation in half the time it would take a normal person.

Things have been a mess for so many years that trying to pin down a starting point is like trying to figure out where your skin starts.

Forgiveness has its comforts, but it can never give you back what you've lost.

You have to look at what you have right in front of you, at what it could be, and stop measuring it against what you've lost. I know this to be wise and true, just as I know that pretty much no one can do it.

That's the thing about life; everything feels so permanent, but you can disappear in an instant.

I loved her for the way she embraced the unknown, how she opened herself up to every experience. When I was with her, she opened me up, too, stirred my passion and heightened my every sensation. Which was great, until she left me and all my heightened senses to deal with the heartache of losing her.