Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all.

There was only today to throw yourself into without thinking about tomorrow, let alone forever. To keep you from thinking, there was liquor, an ocean's worth at least, all the usual vices and plenty of rope to hang yourself with. Love is a beautiful liar.

It gave me a sharp kind of sadness to think that no matter how much I loved him and tried to put him back together again, he might stay broken forever.

I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

I hope we'll get lucky enough to grow old together.

I would gladly have climbed out of my skin and into his that night, because I believed that was what love meant.

... and yet he could also be very charming, in a bookish, infinitely apologetic way.