That someone can want something out of another person who gives absolutely nothing in return astounds me.

You can't go around feeling too much.

Everything hurts, every single thing including the weight of him and I'm crying because it hurts and he's telling me he's sorry over and over again, and I figure somewhere down the track we'll work out the right way of doing this but I don't want to let go, because tonight I'm not looking for anything more than being a part of him. Because being a part of him isn't just anything. It's kind of everything.

But grieving people are selfish. They won’t let you comfort them and they say you don’t understand and they make you feel useless when all your life you’ve been functional to them.

According to Dickens, the first rule of human nature is self-preservation and when I forgive him for writing a character as pathetic as Oliver Twist, I'll thank him for the advice.

Great to know that I'm in love with a girl with a cool name." "It's Taylor's middle name.

The gods do make playthings of us ... but it is we mortals who provide them with the tools.