Why could we say more to each other when it counted less?

Sometimes you don't know it. What you have been waiting your whole life for. You don't know until it is happening.

I couldn't help but wonder if that was what love was -- believing that someone was going to come through, in the end, and that it would still count

It's harder to appreciate what you don't have to look hard to find.

These things...they are who you are. They brought you here. To this day. You didn't give me a chance to understand that ever the unattractive parts of you, the messy parts, were something I could accept.

We have to figure out how to let go, and forgive. This is our job.

Why does it take fear to move you? Why does it take chaos to make us understand exactly what we need to do?