And yes, being lovesick is like being in mourning. Because you die, because your future dies and you with it...There is a hurting time. It lasts for so long. But it gets better. I know that now.

From my window I watched the full moon—a moon that reminded me of Brett—become shadowed, little by little until there was only a deep blackness in the woods at night. I would sit there wakeful, hour after hour, and wonder if this aching around my heart, this sense of being alone, forlorn and unwanted in a world where there was gayety and love for others of my age, was going to continue for all of my days.

It is difficult to love someone who loves you, but easy to hate someone who loves you, and love someone who hates you.

As a comedian, the more you commit the sin of stupidity, three essential things happen to your life:~people applaud you incessantly.~love you more than their parents.~give you a daily bread.

If you think everybody hates you, then your ignorance is beyond the limit, because there's a loving heart somewhere longing to see your face.

He’d lapped at her ankles like a lovesick pup, and she’d been exactly what she was now, a woman born too beautiful and too rich to worry about a small thing like integrity.

As her lips changed the geometry,Her smile turned to poetry.

I felt the nauseous shiver in my stomach—everything from rage to empathy to morning sickness—that I had grown used to and now thought of as being love.

I write because he needs to know.

Therefore, have done with this nonsense: you have no ground for hope: dismiss, at once, these hurtful thoughts and foolish wishes from your mind, and turn to your own duty, and the dull blank life that lies before you. You might have known such happiness was not for you.