Words worth keeping

The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.

We're staying together," he promised. "You're not getting away from me. Never again.

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away... and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast.... be happy about your growth, in which of course you can't take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don't torment them with your doubts and don't frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn't be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn't necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.... and don't expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.

When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.

If conversation was the lyrics, laughter was the music, making time spent together a melody that could be replayed over and over without getting stale.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

You could have fooled me. Everytime I called you, Luke said you were sick. I figured you were avoiding me. Again.""I wasn't. I did want to talk to you. I've been thinking about you all the time.""I've been thinking about you, too.""I really was sick. I swear. I almost died back there on the ship, you know.""I know. Everytime you almost die, I almost die myself.

I stood still, vision blurring, and in that moment, I heard my heart break. It was a small, clean sound, like the snapping of a flower's stem.

Was it hard?" I ask.Letting go?"Not as hard as holding on to something that wasn't real.

And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.

Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall.

I knew, in the silence that followed, that anything could happen here. It might be too late: again, I might have missed my chance. But I would at least know I tried, that I took my heart and extended my hand, whatever the outcome."Okay," he said. He took a breath. "What would you do, if you could do anything?"I took a step toward him, closing the space between us. "This," I said. And then I kissed him.

I'm not sentimental--I'm as romantic as you are. The idea, you know,is that the sentimental person thinks things will last--the romanticperson has a desperate confidence that they won't.

There is greatness in doing something you hate for the sake of someone you love.

He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.