Everyone always wants to know how you can tell when it’s true love, and the answer is this: when the pain doesn’t fade and the scars don’t heal, and it’s too damned late."

"I wish I could write. I get these ideas but I never seem to be able to put them in words."

"To be alive at all is to have scars."



"Have you ever been in love?” I ask. He stares at me, taken aback. “What do you think? I’m not a starfish or a pepper tree. I’m a living, breathing human being. Of course I’ve been in love."

I used to think that knowing someone well was like a quiz bowl, what’s your favorite food, how many siblings do you have? Now, I wonder if anyone knows anything about me, have I ever told anyone anything important about me at all, can people tell each other anything  and be sure that they have been understood? I could hardly tell you the first thing about myself, what kind of person am I?

"When I looked at you, my life made sense. Even the bad things made sense. They were necessary to make you possible."

not gonna lie I spend 86% of my time imagining different scenarios in my head

“tired” isn’t even a temporary state for me anymore it’s just an inherent part of my personality at this point

There are always a lot of words in my mind. Do even a fraction of them make it out, into other’s ears, understood?
"Is it possible, in the final analysis, for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another? We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person’s essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?"

He asked why people are sad. “That’s simple,” says the old man. “They are the prisoners of their personal history. Everyone believes that the main aim in life is to follow a plan. They never ask if that plan is theirs or if it was created by another person. They accumulate experiences, memories, things, other people’s ideas, and it is more than they can possibly cope with. And that is why they forget their dreams

I tried the key in all the doors, even though he said he didn’t recognize it. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, because I did. It’s that at the end of my search, I wanted to be able to say: I don’t know how I could have tried harder."