Fate is the magnetic pull of our souls toward the people, places, and things we belong with.

We had pathetically simple dreams: to do meaningful work that we could be proud of, to be together, and to be happy.

Bottom line, Eliza— you’re my home and my family, and I don’t want to lose you. I could lose everything else, and as long as I still had you and a guitar I know I’d be all right. Do you get what I’m saying?

I know that if I ever have the audacity to blame fate or God for holding a gun to my temple, I also have the wherewithal to remind myself that if I end up with a hole in my head, I was the one who pulled the trigger.

I took a closer look. Jesus had piercing blue eyes, dark hair that hung in a flawless mess, his body was emaciated and taut, his hands and feet dripped with blood, and nothing but a gauzy loincloth hid what looked like a nice package underneath. “Sexy,” I said. “He looks like a rock star.

You can’t judge a man solely on his actions. Sometimes actions are nothing more than re actions.

Everyone feels that void. Everyone who has the balls to look inside themselves, anyway. It's what life's all about.. A search.