She was unequal to anyone's wistfulness. She had made too little of her life. Its loneliness shamed her like a crime.

One should never turn one's back on a vivid imagination.

When she packed up to leave, she knew that she was saying goodbye to something important, which was not that bad, in a way, because it meant that at least you had said hello to it to begin with.

People will do anything, anything, for a really nice laugh.

I missed him. Love, I realized, was something your spine memorized. There was nothing you could do about that.

I want to pretend there's such a thing as requited love. As the endurance of love.

I don't have a love life. I have a like life.