When someone attempts to insult you know that they are inadvertently giving away what would insult them.

Truth and integrity must be so rare these days that it confuses people when they hear it.

There is the purity of love, harmonious in every way, but not meant for a lifetime, and then there is the steady love of commitment - no less real but completely different. She had both.

Darling, if I take your breath away, I will give you mine.

We love because we can lose. If there was no threat of separation, no death to shake us to our core, we probably wouldn't love much at all.

Connecting with someone is not necessarily a bond with a significant other, or even a friend, but can be the indefinable - perhaps the rarest and most precious thing in life to find at all.

Even "meant to be" takes work.

I'd rather be befriended as an aimless lost soul than be befriended for adornment, gain or goal.

Am I a friend or a prospect? Imagine how much kinder life would be if people put as much effort into befriending others instead of trying to sell them something.

Where are the memories that held us together? Where are the dreams that were yet to come? I'm afraid to be happy. I shouldn't be happy. If I'm happy without you does that mean I've told you goodbye?

One of the disadvantages to having a choice is the inevitability to hang oneself on freedoms rope.

Hope in the beginning feels like such a violation of the loss, and yet without it we couldn't survive.

That I can read and be happy while I am reading, is a great blessing.

His resolve is not to seem the bravest, but to be.

The very purpose of Christ's coming into the world was that He might offer up His life as a sacrifice for the sins of men. He came to die. This is the heart of Christmas.

I think the sensible thing would be to focus on one thing and be the best you can be at it. There is always that risk of spreading yourself too thin if you try to do too much.

Everyone is a leader because everyone influences someone.

We forget that we are all dead men conversing with dead men.

Literature begins with the possible model of experience, and what it produces is the literary model we call the classic.

Every moment you spend thinking about the bad stuff pushes that much more of the good stuff away.