Maybe the truth is, there’s a little bit of loser in all of us. Being happy isn’t having everything in your life be perfect. Maybe it’s about stringing together all the little things.
Parents were the only ones obligated to love you; from the rest of the world you had to earn it.
Maybe, sometimes, it’s easier to be mad at the people you trust because you know they’ll always love you, no matter what.
Let me love you, but don’t love me back. Do love me and let me hate you for a while. Let me feel like I have some control, because I know I never do.
When you feel someone else’s pain and joy as powerfully as if it were your own, then you know you really loved them.
Love who you love while you have them. That’s all you can do. Let them go when you must. If you know how to love, you’ll never run out.
I’m afraid of time... I mean, I’m afraid of not having enough time. Not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I’m afraid of the quick judgements or mistakes everybody makes. You can’t fix them without time. I’m afraid of seeing snapshots, not movies.
When she is happy, she can’t stop talking, when she is sad she doesn’t say a word.