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I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply alloe me to live with my idea of them.

Lost people are different. They will drive around in the same circle over and over rather than try a new path. Their fear of getting more lost paralyzed them into staying lost in the area that’s just become familiar. It supersedes their ability to chart a new course. They circle and backtrack and stay comfortably lost because it’s less scary than seeing something different than what’s presently in front of them.

Sometimes people are beautiful. Not in looks. Not in what they say. Just in what they are.

Sometimes I think people don’t understand how lonely it is to be a kid, like you don’t matter.

I want to do so many things - and maybe someday a lot of it will be impossible, but right now I don't see the impossible.

Like if you could squeeze your eyelids together hard enough you could transfer you soul into that song and you wouldn’t have to worry about bills or beef or responsibility or holidays or eating spoiled food. Like the half awake zombie state after a long day of work where your feet feel strangely warm and comfortable and you know if you kept your eyes closed longer than ten seconds you would be asleep. It’s a magic time that is impossible to predict. That is impossible to improve upon. That is impossible to reach. But it’s a moment that you wish you could live forever inside.

Love isn't an act. It's a whole life. It's staying with her now because she needs you; it's knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures- when all that's on the shelf and done with. Love-why, I'll tell you what love is: it's you at 75 and her at 71, each of you listening for the other's step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime's talk is over.

I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.

She was beautiful, in the quiet way that lonely, unnoticed people are beautiful to those who notice them.

You’re going to come across people in your life who will say all the right words at all the right times. But in the end, it’s always their actions you should judge them by. It’s actions, not words, that matter.

I don’t doubt myself because of you. I feel like the best version of myself when I’m with you, and that makes me doubt everything else.

Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly.

You couldn’t just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. It wasn’t like a light switch, easy to shut on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out. To me, it didn’t seem complicated at all. In fact, it was the simplest thing in the world.

It’s a great thing when you realize you still have the ability to surprise yourself.

It was so easy to disown what you couldn’t recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.

Most people are together just so they are not alone. But some people want magic. I think you are one of those people.

Maybe the truth was, it shouldn’t be easy to be amazing. Then everything would be. It’s the things you fight for and struggle with before earning that have the greatest worth. When something’s difficult to come by, you’ll do that much more to make sure it’s even harder-if not impossible-to lose.

Literally nothing is held against you. Love has no memory or perception of guilt. The universe is always ready to help you start over.

Life is very interesting… In the end, some of your greatest pains, become your greatest strengths.

You see two people and you think they belong together, but nothing happens. The thought of losing so much control over personal happiness is unbearable. You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering, and that’s the sad truth. Maybe they’ll break your heart, maybe you’ll break their heart and never be able to look at yourself in the same way. Those are the risks. That’s the burden. Like wings, they have weight, we feel that weight on our backs, but they are a burden that lifts us. Burdens that allow us to fly.

Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the human heart can hold.