Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.

Nothing could have survived our life.

Look closer and you'll see something extraordinary, mystifying, something real and true. We have never been what we seemed.

I'm just not the same. Half of me is out there looking for you and the other half is wishing i didn't have to." I don't want to live - I want to love first, And live incidentally. Don't-don't ever think of the things you can't give me-You've trusted me with the dearest heart of all-and it's so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had.

Maybe other people's ideas of us are truer than our own.

Being in love, she concluded, is simply a presentation of our pasts to another individual, mostly packages so unwieldy that we can no longer manage the loosened strings alone.

Why is there happiness and comfort and excitement where you are and no where else in the world.