He was afraid of letting anyone know of his love, because if life had taught him anything, it was that love wasn’t a prize, it was a weapon. And he was so tired of being hurt.

To love,and all the heartache that weighs it down.To love,and all the heartbeats that lift it up.

But my heart… my heart believed in a quiet, simple kind of love. A kind of love that was created before time existed, a kind of love that was bigger than any limitations the world placed upon us. It was a type of love that had no age limits, no boundaries , and was seen only within the souls of two people. My heart didn’t give me much of a choice.

All this time I thought you were reading to escape the world, but now I know, you didn’t read to escape it; you read to discover it.

You don't have to be good all the times. It's okay to be hurt sometimes. It's okay to feel lost like you're wandering around the dark. It's the bad days that make the good ones so much better.

Maybe the point of life is to teach us that we aren’t always going to be our past mistakes. Maybe the point of life is to open ourselves up to the things that we fear most—like love.Maybe the whole point of my life was to simply find you, even if it wasn’t meant to be forever.And that thought alone is enough to get me through each night of loneliness.

I wasn't sure of it, but I was almost certain that loneliness was a disease. An infectious, disgusting illness that was slow to creep into your system and overtake you, even though you tried to fight it off the best you could.

Each night we watched the sun set no matter where we were, and we'd wake up early to witness it rising again. That was the thing about life: even when the days faded to black, you were always given another chance. A second moment to try again to rise from the ashes.

Steven and I had always come to the market to check out the fresh flowers, so when Friday came around with the fresh roses, I always stood in the middle of it all, breathing in the memories and breathing out the hurt.

There was nothing as romantic as the feel of a book in your hands.

- I'll be better tomorrow.- No you won't. But that's okay...I'll wait.- For how long?- How long will I wait? Take forever and multiply it by infinity. And then I'll wait some more.

Sometimes tomorrow never comes and you’re only left with the memories of yesterdays.

Well then..." I clear my throat once. "You are a fantastic actor," I say, breathless, and emotionally drugged up on Mr. Sexdorable.