If you lose all hope, you can always find it again.

What was our life like? I almost don't remember now. Though I remember it, the space of time it occupied. And I remember it fondly.

Love isn’t a thing, after all, but an endless series of single acts.

I know you can dream your way through an otherwise fine life, and never wake up, which is what I almost did.

For, how else to seize such an instant? How to shout out into the empty air just the right words, and on cue? Frame a moment to last a lifetime?

Some people want to be bank presidents. Other people want to rob banks.

The ways in which things are superficially similar but also distinct is interesting to me.