I think I see the difference now, between loving someone from afar and loving someone up close. When you see them up close, you see the real them, but they also get to see the real you.
Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.
Sometimes, when it’s raining, I think about you. I think about you all the way over there, with all that ocean and all those years between us. I think about if you’re doing well, what your bedroom looks like, if you enjoy your job. I think about the times when there wasn’t any ocean between us and my time was your time. I think about when I knew the answers about you, because they were my answers as much as they were yours. Sometimes, when it’s raining, I wonder if it’s raining where you are too.
You never know the last time you’ll see a place. A person.
Good people are like candles; they burn themselves up to give others light.
Best friend isn’t a person Danny, it’s a tier.
True love is not so much a matter of romance as it is a matter of anxious concern for the well-being of one’s companion.
He was the closest you’ve come to love. Real love. And you dodged it, at the last second. But it was close. Real close. You could have loved him.
There is no shame in being hungry for another person. There is no shame in wanting very much to share your life with somebody.
Sometimes it’s like people are a million times more beautiful to you in your mind. It’s like you see them through a special lens—but maybe if it’s how you see them, that’s how they really are. It’s like the whole tree falling in the forest thing.
secretive dreams 