Days are a finite resource and it's best to protect the ones you have.

Why were we never together anymore, just alone in each other's vicinity?

I wasn't sure if it was safe for me to be sharing time and space with other people, who all seemed so much gentler and safer and less of a secret to themselves than I felt I was.

I knew that my husband was a song that I had forgotten the words to and I was a fuzzy photograph of someone he used to love.

That's the thing about fiction, that you live in it totally for a little while, but you must forget it, sometimes totally forget it, in order to go about the rest of your day.

But we always avoided talking about these things—difficult things—and I wondered if that meant we'd be a little uncomfortable with or disappointed by each other for the rest of our lives.

Lately, I couldn't remember those years, as if childhood was a movie I'd only seen the previews to.

None of us know how to fix ourselves, at least not entirely, not well enough.

That boy never seemed to smile and he wore long sleeves year-round, and I was not so different from him—we were both unable to get near the real life in life.

I couldn't blame anyone for what was in me, because I am, like everyone, populated entirely by myself.

Everyone wants to feel like they could destroy a small-to-medium-to-large part of someone who loves them.

We loved each other.We hurt each other.We left each other.Now we hate each other.Let’s not stop there.Let’s finally forgive each other.

You are to weak you need a prowl to protect you... I mean that A Prowl must be your friend (get it?? Prowl film!)

I like the tag of being the world's most expensive player. It's an honour and a privilege.

I love this profession, but God, it can just destroy people, and I don't want that to happen and become some monster.

We read for instruction, for correction, and for consolation.

Massive progress has been made in the last five years. More progress has to be made in terms of fiscal union and banking union.

The civilization of one epoch becomes the manure of the next.

I know when I first started working with Manny that he was something special. But eight world titles? No one could have expected that.

I can't tell you the number of times I've been in the middle of a perfunctory conversation, and someone will say, 'Tell us what you really think.' Or 'Maybe you should switch to decaf.

Civilization, to be worthy of the name, must afford other methods of settling human differences than those of blood letting.