If you want to know how someone really feels, you almost never have to ask.

My head's filled up with all the reasons it won't work. And I keep running the figures, over and over, but I can't seem to come up with an answer.

You can't hurt someone who doesn't care about you.

He hadn’t been her first lover or the first boy to give her an orgasm. He hadn’t even been the first she’d loved. He’d been the first to turn her inside out with something as simple as a smile. The first to make her doubt herself. He’d taken her deeper than anyone ever had, and yet she hadn’t drowned.

Sometimes,” he said after a second that lasted a million years, “things get broken. And they can’t be fixed.

Choices. We all make them, sometimes more than once. Sometimes it's the choices we make over and over that define us, but more often it's the choices we don't make.

You know what the best part of the stars is?" "What's that?" "They're the same no matter what sky you're standing under. I mean...yeah, they might move or look like they're in a different place, but they're the same stars." "Yeah? So?" "So even if you're apart from someone you want to be with, you can look up at the stars and know they're looking at the same ones.