Is Fate getting what you deserve, or deserving what you get?

Things had a way of working out for the best when you let them run their course.

He smiles at me, and I am suddenly seventeen again - the year I realize that love doesn't follow the rules, the year I understood that nothing is worth having so much as something unattainable

There were two ways to be happy: improve your reality, or lower your expectations

But will you miss me? More importantly - will I miss you? Does either one of us really want to hear the answer to that question?

If it had been easy for Romeo to get to Juliet, nobody would have cared. Same goes for Cyrano and Don Quixote and Gatsby and their respective paramours. What captures the imagination is watching men...

Nobody wants to admit to this, but bad things will keep on happening. Maybe that's beause it's all a chain, and a long time ago someone did the first bad thing, and that led someone else to do another...

Lately, I have been having nightmares, where I'm cut into so many pieces that there isn't enough of me to be put back together.

I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with the scent of him.

You know, the mind is a remarkable thing. Just because you can't see the wound doesn't mean it isn't hurting. It scars all the time, but it heals.

Three months ago, if you asked me, I would have told you that if you really loved someone, you'd let them go. But now I look at you, and I dreamed about Maggie, and I see that I've been wrong. If you...

Bad is not an absolute, but a relative term. Ask the robber who used the cash he stole to feed his infant; the rapist who was sexually abused as a child; the kidnapper who truly believed he was saving...

He insisted that stars were people so well loved, they were traced in constellations, to live forever

What was the point of being able to forgive, when deep down, you both had to admit you'd never forget?

All teenagers knew this was true. The process of growing up was nothing more than figuring out what doors hadn't yet been slammed in your face. For years, parents tell you that you can be anything,...

Words are like eggs dropped from great heights; you can no more call them back than ignore the mess they leave when they fall.

Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.

Just because you keep something a secret doesn't mean it never happened, no matter how much you want that to be true.