You never answered my question, about what you want to do with your life. Maybe my dreams aren't that complicated. Maybe I think that a job is just a job. What does that mean? Maybe I don't want to be defined by what I do. Maybe I'd like to be defined by what I am.

She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.

Experience had taught me that even the most precious memories fade with the passage of time.

If Alex has chosen you, then I want you to believe that I have chosen you as well.

She smiled. "I need your opinion," she said. "What do you think about something sleeveless for this weekend? With a cinched waist and a medium train?" I brought my hand to my chin and considered this. "Sounds okay," I said. "But I think I'd look better in a tuxedo.

Life was about spending time together , about having the time to walk together holding hands, talking quietly as the sun go down. It wasn't glamorous, but it was, in many ways, the best that life has to offer. Wasn't that how the old saying went? Who, on their deathbed, ever said they wished they had worked harder? Or spent less time enjoying a quiet afternoon? Or spent less time with their family?

Loving someone and having them love you back is the most precious thing in the world. It's what made it possible for me to go on, but you don't seem to realize that. Even when love is right there in front of you, you choose to turn away from it. You're alone because you want to be.