People belong to each other only as long as they both believe. He stopped believing.
Maybe happiness was an hourglass already running out, the grains tipping, sifting past each other. Maybe it was a state of mind.
I'd never met anyone so vibrant or alive. He moved like light.
I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.
All that was left for me was a terrible kind of paralysis, this waiting game, this heartbreak game.
The way I see it, how can you really say you'll love a person longer than love lasts?