She moved closer to me, put her hands to my face, and kissed me softly on the lips. God, it felt so good. So perfect, so right... It felt so good, I nearly fell off the roof.

It's strange, the lack of emotion, the absence of drama in reality. When things happen in real life, extraordinary things, there's no music, there's no dah-dah-daaahhs. There's no close-ups. No dramatic camera angles. Nothing happens. Nothing stops, the rest of the world goes on.

To me a good book is like a quiet friend—a friend who’s happy to share thoughts and feelings with you, who’s always there when you need them. Best of all, this friend doesn’t have any secrets. They trust you to understand them. They take you to their innermost places. They share their sensations and emotions—and they let you experience them. Wherever you go and however you feel, they are always by your side. For an hour, a day, a week, or forever, their life becomes yours. Their story is your story. That’s the kind of book I’m trying to write.

The sadness, the silence, the darkness, the loneliness... all of it held in a simple little moment. It was just so... I don't know. Just so much.

It’s always hard to lose somebody. It leaves a hole in you heart that never grows back.

I was thinking about all these things and more, but I wasn't really thinking about them at all. They were just there, floating around in the back of my mind, thinking about themselves. What I was really thinking about, of course, was Lucas.

In love and faith I just have to believe