Eventually you love people – friends or lovers – because of their flaws.

Friendship often ends in love but love in friendship–never.

Love does not just sit there, like a stone; it had to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.

Life deals us strange turns.

His smile. His eyes. His lips. His hair. His laugh. His hands. His smirk. His humor. His weird face.

Live the questions.

Truth never dies, but lives a wretched life.

You are nothing short of my everything.