Ever notice how people wait until they're not going to see you anymore to say something nice to you?

Prayers are answered in one of four ways,” she said. “Yes. No. I have something else in mind. And . . .” She paused long enough for my impatience to show. “And what’s the fourth answer?” “Wait,” she said.

Ever notice how people wait until they're not going to see you anymore to say something nice to you?

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.

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

I’m not sure I’ll ever be finished. No matter how much I write, there will always be something I should’ve said.

Then again maybe there's something that I've been doing in the privacy of my own bedroom my whole life that I think is perfectly normal but is actually illegal in thirty-two states.