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“There was another life that I might have had, but I am having this one.”

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

“The thing you must know and understand about love is that, it mend wounds as much as it creates them. It has the ability to build someone up and tear them down equally. It can be lovely and deadly all at the same time.”

Look, I don’t know if anything is going to happen with us ever again. But I don’t want to know that it never could.

And maybe it was the best thing to do. To stop chasing someone who did nothing but hurt you.

One of the risks of being quiet is that other people can fill your silence with their own interpretation: You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re shy. You’re stuck up. You’re judgmental. When others can’t read us, they write their own story—not always one we choose or that’s true to who we are.

Silence is also conversation.

I told him he could come and find me if he ever changed his mind,“ she said, “but I never heard from him again. “So you see, sometimes you offer people choices hoping that they’ll choose you. Sometimes you offer them choices knowing that they never will.”

“When should you let go?” She asked, with her chin rested on her palm. “When the ‘I love yous’ stop sounding like ‘I love you’,” I answered, “When they begin to sound very much like, ‘I’m sorry’.”