The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight

by Jennifer E. Smith

That’s the thing about flying: You could talk to someone for hours and never even know his name, share your deepest secrets and then never see him again.

In the end, it’s not the changes that will break your heart; it’s that tug of familiarity.

There’s always a gap between the burn and the sting of it, the pain and the realization.

all she wanted to do was cry and cry and cry until there was nothing left to cry about.

Because as far as she was concerned, there was no in-between: She wanted all or nothing, illogically, irrationally, even though something inside of her knew that nothing would be too hard, and all was impossible.

“Is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it?”

“And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death,”