Nobody was perfect. Not even close. And everybody had wrinkles from smiling and squinting and craining their necks. Everybody has marks on their bodies from years of living- a trail of life left on them. Evidence of all the adventures and sleepless nights and practical jokes and heartbreaks that had made them who they are.

Sometimes there is no way to hold your life together. Sometimes things just have to fall apart.

I like to write about people who are real and likeable. I like to write about people who tell their stories in that close and intimate voice we use with best friends. I love the closeness and honesty and vulnerability that come from characters who can talk that way.

Something good was happening. My life was rising from the ashes, and the sight of it left me feeling something like hopeful.

We build our lives in moments, and even the ones we can't remember become the story of who we are.

People are always beautiful when you love them.

It's always better to have what you have than to get what you wanted.