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That love stories are like fairy tales: you’re not meant to believe in them forever.
Given enough time, all love stories turn into heartbreak stories. Heartbreak = love + time.
Happiness is tricky. Sometimes you have to fight for it. Sometimes, though—the best times—it sneaks up behind you, wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close.
It was beautiful. But it was sad too. Both things, and at the same time. I don’t know why so much of life is like that.
If you get very, very lucky in this life, then you get to love another person so hard and so completely that when you lose them, it rips you apart. I think the pain is the proof of a life well lived and loved.”
Love is the question and the answer and the reason to ask in the first place. It’s everything. All of it.”
The problem with broken hearts isn’t that they kill you. It’s that they don’t.
Mom said just because a thing ends doesn’t make the thing any less real. Just because everything is different now doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other once. Maybe we will again.
