I'm not sure we get to choose when or where we find what we're looking for.

Belief isn't supposed to make sense, at least not all the time. In that, it finds its power. It gets to creep up on you and carry you forward. Until you can carry yourself again.

We only really remember things for five years. After that, what we remember, what's actually etched in our brain is our memory of the thing, not the thing itself. And five years after that, what's left is our memory of the memory.

There are different ways to be confused about how someone's disappointed you. Some lie about the future because they wanted to forget the past. But some will lie about the past because they think it will give you both a future.

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

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

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