...just a little touches her and there. He puts his hands on your arms or back, he stands close to you, getting you used to him... it's a mating ritual. Like March of the Penguins.

What does your gut tell you?" "My gut and I aren't currently speaking to each other

I closed my eyes, thinking, Let me love you, Hardy, just let me.

I figured if I told it to myself often enough, I would start believing it.

I’ve never had any objection to appearing depraved or villainous. But I draw the line at looking like a prize idiot.

But no one can predict of a certainty what will happen. And none of it will change how I intend to spend the rest of my life. I will live it on my terms. And you... you can have all of me or nothing. I won't be an invalid any longer. Not even if it means losing you.

I have always hated flying. The idea of it is an affront to nature. People are meant to stay on the ground.