At night, when I am alone, I call for you, and whenever my ache seems to be the greatest, you still seem to find a way to return to me.

How far would you go to keep the hope of love alive?

"Please... don't ask me to go with you, because if you do, I'll go. Please don't ask me to tell Frank about us, because I'll do that, too. Please don't ask me to give up my responsibilities or break up my family"... "I love you, and if you love me, too, then you just can't ask me to do these things. Because I don't trust myself enough to say no."

It is the possibility that keeps me going, and though you may call me a dreamer or a fool or any other thing, I believe that anything is possible.

Every now and then, I’d meet a guy and think that we were getting along great, and suddenly I’d stop hearing from him. Not only did he stop calling, but if I happened to bump into him sometime later he always acted like I had the plague. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. And it bothered me. It hurt me. With time, it got harder and harder to keep blaming the guys, and I eventually came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with me. That maybe I was simply meant to live my life alone.

Oh yeah? What did you have last night?" "Turkey sandwich on wheat. With a pickle." "And the night before?" "Turkey sandwich on wheat. No pickle." She giggled. "What was the last hot meal you cooked?" He pretended to rack his brains. "Uh...beans and franks. On Monday.

He took a few steps before responding. "You are special," he finally said, and the way e said it made her wonder if he wanted to add something else.