el.

Hearts don't really break. If only they could.

I want every girl in the world to pick up a guitar and start screaming.

It’s a weird phrase in English, in love, like it’s a sea you drown in or a town you live in. You don’t get to be in anything else—in friendship or in anger or in hope. All you can be in is love.

Even though I laughed with them, it felt like I was watching the whole thing from somewhere else, like I was watching a movie about my life instead of living it.

We never really talked much or even looked at each other, but it didn’t matter because we were looking at the same sky together, which is maybe even more intimate than eye contact anyway. I mean, anybody can look at you. It’s quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see.

The problem with happy endings, I said, is that they’re either not really happy, or not really endings, you know? In real life, some things get better and some things get worse. And then eventually you die.

You’re both the fire and the water that extinguishes it. You’re the narrator, the protagonist, and the sidekick. You’re the storyteller and the story told. You are somebody’s something, but you are also your you.

And I kept thinking about how sky is a singular noun, as if it's one thing. But the sky isn't one thing. The sky is everything. And last night, it was enough.

To be alive is to be missing.

Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.

Dostoevsky knew a lot, but not everything. For example, he thought that if you kill a person, you will become Raskolnikov. And we now know that you can kill five, ten, a hundred people and go to the theater in the evening.

I was looking for happiness in this woman, and I accidentally found death.

Besides your love, to me there is no Sun, and I don’t even know where you are or with whom.

Can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?