No one was ever good enough for anybody's precious sons. No one ever called daughters precious, and why was that? Things had not changed very much. In the end women like Emily and Ingrid and Freya and Joanna only had one another to lean on. The men were wonderful when they were around, but their fires burned too bright, they lived too close to the sun - look what happened to her boy, and to her man. Gone. Women only had one another in the end.

Never trust a shiny surface. They hide a multitude of flaws.

He knew what it was like to love one who did not--or could not--love you back. But he'd had no choice. None of them did.

Because love was not the answer to every question. Because real love meant sacrifice. Sometimes love means letting go.

They did it for love, and sometimes love makes us do the irrational .. even the inexcusable.

You have punished me long enough, you have punished yourself long enough. Return to me. I beg.

The world in your mind is as real as the world outside of it.