I'd discovered another of life's cliches by being with jude: the happier you are in life, the faster it passes you by.

Black absorbs all color, accepts them, takes them into it and let them define it. Gray isn't anything but itself. It absorbs nothing but itself.

Love isn’t only love, sweetheart. It’s hard work, and trust, and tears, with even a few glimpses of devastation. But at the end of each day, if you can still look at the person at your side and can’t imagine anyone else you’d rather have there, the pain and heartache and the ups and downs of love are worth it.

You can’t be friends with the person you were meant to spent your life with

The few things I’d sacrificed, or put on hold, to be with my husband and baby were worth it.

I try to keep the happy memories. If that's what you call selective memories, I'm good with that.

If you say you’re going to trust your man, then trust your man. Don’t revoke that privilege when he needs it most.