“Everything is all right,When youre here,When youre right next to me,When my hand is in yours,Dont leave me,Dont leave me empty handed.”

“Being a blessd writer is a cursed attribute, when you wish to no longer be encompassed by someone and yet you are surrounded by loose leaf papers filled with the sound of his voice.”

“I deleted your number. Although I know the tired digits by heart, scout's honor, pinky promise.I am trying to talk myself out of every emotion I'm having, and of course, it is failing to a fault.I'...”

“I have a horrid scar right under my left knee from you. Well, the absence of you. Seems appropriate. But I still miss you. My pillowcase smells like you, so I bury my face in it and breathe it in. ...”

“Our hearts will be broken a thousand times over, but who is to say that our hearts were ever perfect to begin with? Maybe they can withstand a few cracks. After all, the way that we love is not per...”

“Honesty is nothing more than a party trick, and you know how much I love to dance.”

“Being a writer all boils down to this: It's you, in a chair, staring at a page. And you're either going to stay in that chair until words are written, or you're going to give up and walk away. The ...”

“When male authors write love stories, the heroine tends to end up dead.”

“Im likely to stay here, pen in hand, until dusk comes and my writing melts into the twilight.”

“I think you still love me, but we cant escape the fact that Im not enough for you. I knew this was going to happen. So Im not blaming you for falling in love with another woman. Im not angry, eithe...”

“I will not try to convince you to love me, to respect me, to commit to me. I deserve better than that; I AM BETTER THAN THAT...Goodbye.”

“Sometimes you want to say, I love you, butYet the but takes away the I love you. In love their are no buts or ifs or when. Its just there, and always. No beginning, no end. Its the condition-less s...”

“The heart was made to be broken.”

“He does something to me, that boy. Every time. Its his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.”

“Was it hard?" I ask.Letting go?"Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real.”