The moment had passed, the door between the lives we could have led and the lives we led had shut in our faces.

Then he almost but didn't say the two sentence he'd been meaning to say for years: part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you

He learned to live with the truth. Not to accept it, but to live with it.

And if the man who once upon a time had been a boy who promised he'd never fall in love with another girl as long as he lived kept his promise, it wasn't because he was stubborn or even loyal. He couldn't help it.

There's no match for the silence of GOD.

When you're younger, it's all theoretical. It's all potential. As you get older, it becomes actual, and your life gets filled with unexpected complexity; some of it asked for, and some of it not. It becomes richer, I find.

Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together.