When you say too much about anything important, it always ends up sounding more trivial than it is. Words trash it.

Since I’ve known you, you’ve been spinning and spinning and spinning into all these various personas, and none of this self-exploration and experimentation has given you a sense of peace. I’ve known you for six years, intimately for four, and I still have no idea who I’m in love with.

Did you know that the average American spends six months of his or her life waiting for red lights to turn green? Six months wasted, waiting for permission to move on. Think of all the other stuff you could do with that time.” I was totally confused. “In the car?” “In your life,” he said.

So much of courtship is the unspoken.

I know it makes sense for me and him to just break up now and just live our seperate lives and not have to worry about missing each other all the time. But when I think about that, I get sick. Physically sick. Like I seriously throw up. I need to be with him, even if I can’t, like, be with him.

Excuse our appearances. We are taking apart yesterday, to make way for tomorrow

I don't know anything about anything. The only difference between then and now is this: I may know more than I used to but my wisdom pales in comparison to that which I have yet to learn