We can't live other people's lives for them. Even if we love them.

Their friendship was more important than any relationship. Guys would come and go; girlfriends were forever.

The falling apart of a man's life should make more noise. It should startle passesrby with its Sturm and Drang. It ought to sound like the Parthenon crashing down. Not this ordinary, everyday kind of quiet...He closed his eyes...And still it was quiet, this falling apart of his life, as silent as the last beat of an old man's heart. A quiet, echoing thud, and then...nothing.

Promises were a lot like impressions. The second one didn't count for much.

In the sea of grief, there were islands of grace, moments in time when one could remember what was left rather than all that had been lost.

Maybe time didn't heal wounds exactly, but it gave you a kind of armor, or a new perspective. A way to remember with a smile instead of a sob.

That was what a best friend did: hold up a mirror and show you your heart.