We’re all a little broken, on the sidewalk. On the street. In the city.

Even when everything hurts, even when other cities are exploding and people we love are disappearing, there’s still space for sweet things.

I want to know if we are the same, in the moments when we’re stripped bare.

We have to give up so many things when the people we love die. So we hang on to other familiar things.

I can’t quite figure out the difference between loving someone and loving things about them.

Love is insanity, apparently.

Love is something you have or don’t have. Love is like a fever.

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you’re married or not.

Sometimes words I think are small come out big.

On our own, we’d look totally normal. Together, we’re something else. Together, we’re special.

We don’t smile, but we something. We something. It hurts, the way a deep connection to someone who isn’t yours sometimes does.

Sometimes, ’ he starts, ‘the hardest part about letting someone go is realizing you were never meant to have them.

If you don't believe in the things you're doing, the answer isn't fooling yourself into thinking you believe it. If you don't believe in what you're doing, then you just shouldn't be doing it.

An oath, sir, is an end of all strife, and it is God's ordinance.

We all have hometown appetites.

I like Stallone, because he writes. He sits down with a blank page and comes up with another Rambo movie. That isn't very easy for anybody. He's made it successful on top of that.

But I think role models also start in the home with your parents.

Tears do not burn except in solitude.

I wasn't really raised to be the type of person to have doubts.

We do not grow by knowing all of the answers, but rather by living with the questions.

No man should judge unless he asks himself in absolute honesty whether in a similar situation he might not have done the same.