It's funny, isn't it? When you are young you just want to be old, and then later you wish you could go back to being a kid.
Hope keeps you alive.
I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up.
It amazes me how easy it is for things to change, how easy it is to start off down the same road you always take and wind up somewhere new. Just one false step, one pause, one detour, and you end up with new friends or a bad reputation or a boyfriend or a breakup. It's never occurred to me before; I've never been able to see it. And it makes me feel, weirdly, like maybe all of these different possibilities exist at the same time, like each moment we live has a thousand other moments layered underneath it that look different.
And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told me there was a star for every thing you loved about me.
i think of all the thousands of billions of steps and missteps and chances and coincidences that have brought me here. Brought you here, and it feels like the biggest miracle in the world.
I'd rather die my way than live yours.
We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven't chosen at all.
I know that the whole point—the only point—is to find the things that matter, and hold on to them, and fight for them, and refuse to let them go.
How is it possible, I think, to change so much and not be able to change anything at all?
The flip side of freedom is this: When you're completely free, you're also completely on your own.
Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there's a tomorrow. Maybe for you there's one thousand tomorrows, or three thousand, or ten, so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it, let it slide like coins through you fingers. So much time you can waste it. But for some of us there's only today. And the truth is, you never really know.
A good friend keeps your secrets for you. A best friend helps you keep your own secrets.
It's so strange how life works: You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it's taking forever to come. Then it happens and it's over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment before things changed.
I'd rather die on my own terms than live on theirs. I'd rather die loving Alex than live without him.
Love: a single word, a wispy thing, a word no bigger or longer than an edge. That's what it is: an edge; a razor. It draws up through the center of your life, cutting everything in two. Before and after. The rest of the world falls away on either side.
I don't know whether these feelings - this thing growing inside of me - is something horrible and sick or the best thing that's ever happened to me. Either way, I can't stop it. I've lost control. And the truly sick thing is that despite everything, I'm glad.
Who knows? Maybe they’re right. Maybe we are driven crazy by our feelings. Maybe love is a disease, and we would be better off without it. But we have chosen a different road. And in the end that is the point of escaping the cure: We are free to choose. We are even free to choose the wrong thing.
You have to go forward: It's the only way. You have to go forward no matter what happens. This is the universal law.
I guess that's what saying good-bye is always like--like jumping off an edge. The worst part is making the choice to do it. Once you're in the air, there's nothing you can do but let go.
You can't be happy unless you're unhappy sometimes".
If you cross a line and nothing happens, the line loses meaning.
It's like there's a filter set up in my brain, except instead of making things better, it twists everything around so what comes out of my mouth is totally wrong, totally different from what I was thinking.
There's a place for everything and everyone, you know. That is the mistake they make above. They think that only certain people have a place. Only certain kinds of people belong. The rest is waste. But even waste must have a place. Otherwise it will clog and clot, and rot and fester.
When you love someone, when you care for someone, you have to do it through the good and the bad. Not just when you're happy and it's easy.
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