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The three hardest tasks in the world are neither physical feats nor intellectual achievements, but moral acts: to return love for hate, to include the excluded, and to say, 'I was wrong'.
Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.
Our dilemma is that we hate change and love it at the same time; what we really want is for things to remain the same but get better.
Two minds with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one.
Love sucks. Sometimes it feels good. Sometimes it's just another way to bleed.
The human heart is a strange vessel. Love and hatred can exist side by side.
You know it's never fifty-fifty in a marriage. It's always seventy-thirty, or sixty-forty. Someone falls in love first. Someone puts someone else up on a pedestal. Someone works very hard to keep things rolling smoothly; someone else sails along for the ride.
My mother... she is beautiful, softened at the edges and tempered with a spine of steel. I want to grow old and be like her.
If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?
and he suddenly knew that if she killed herself, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain, but it would happen. You couldn't live for very long without a heart.
I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
It's been so long since I made love, I can't even remember who gets tied up.
Live, love, laugh, leave a legacy.
It is not enough that we do our best; sometimes we must do what is required.
Let us begin this letter, this prelude to an encounter, formally, as a declaration, in the old-fashioned way: I love you. You do not know me (although you have seen me, smiled at me). I know you (although not so well as I would like. I want to be there when your eyes flutter open in the morning, and you see me, and you smile. Surely this would be paradise enough?). So I do declare myself to you now, with pen set to paper. I declare it again: I love you.
Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.
Whatever you do, crush the infamous thing, and love those who love you.
This is what we call love. When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there's no need at all to understand what's happening, because everything happens within you.
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