“I can't pretend to know what love is. It just is.”

“You know one me. Just like I know one you. But you can't know every me, Evan. And I can't know every you.”

“You don't know me. You know one me, just like I know one you. And you can't know every me, and I can't know every you.”

“I collected their papers. The ones that blew into Brooklyn. They were just there at first. I didn't even know what they were. But once I did, I went all over the place, picking them up. I don't know what to do with them. I mean, they're meaningless now, but they still exist. You can't throw out something like that. You can't make them gone like that.”

“Do I really have to find a word for it? Can't it just be what it is?”

“This is what love does: It makes you want to rewrite the world. It makes you want to choose the characters, build the scenery, guide the plot. The person you love sits across from you, and you want to do everything in your power to make it possible, endlessly possible. And when it’s just the two of you, alone in a room, you can pretend that this is how it is, this is how it will be.”

“I want love to conquer all. But love can't conquer anything. It can't do anything on it's own.It relies on us to do the conquering on its behalf.”