Nothing is permanently perfect. But there are perfect moments and the will to choose what will bring about more perfect moments.

Every moment is a moment of decision, and every moment turns us inexorably in the direction of the rest of our lives.

Everyone was a rose but even more complex than a mere flower. Everyone was made up of infinitely layered petals. And everyone had something indescribably precious at the heart of their being. No one was shallow. Not really.

Always guarding one's real, precious self in a cocoon of tranquility within a thousand masks. Life itself had become a secret affair.

Have you noticed," she asked him, "how we live much of our lives in the past and most of the rest of it in the future? Have you noticed how often the present moment slips by quiet unnoticed?

There is no happily-ever-after to run to. We have to work for happiness.

Love did not have to make sense. It did not have to be worthy. It did not have to be earned. It did not have to woo. It just simply was.