You can't always get the perfect moment. Sometimes, you just have to do the best you can under the circumstances.

The true story...is the realization that no time in your life is ever perfect, that even the best memories have cracks you might not see.

Say what you will, but you’re never prepared for the surprise attack.

When you had to do something, you had to do it. And eventually, if you were lucky, you did it well.

It was like when you're a little kid and you run into your teacher or librarian at the grocery store or Wal-mart and it's just so startling, because it never occurred to you they existed outside of school.

And trying to break it down this way, to minor and major offenses, maybes and what-ifs, was like arguing over the origin of cracks in a broken egg. It was done. How it happened didn't matter anymore.

The silence wasn't like the ones I'd known lately, though: it wasn't empty as much as chosen. There's a entirely different feel to quiet when you're with some-one else, and at any moment it could be broken. Like the difference between a pause and an ending.