“Maybe home isn't a place. Maybe it's a feeling you have inside of you, being around the people who matter to you”

“Maybe I don't need a relationship after all, she thought. Maybe thinking about these conversations was just as good as having them. She could sit in her Honda in the dark and experience whatever kind of life she wanted. Sometimes you think, Hey, maybe there's something else out there. But there really isn't. This is what being alive feels like, you know? The place doesn't matter. You just live.”

“You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore… All of the sudden, even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone… Or maybe it's like this rite of passage… You will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place.”

“Maybe some love was guaranteed. Maybe it fit inside you and around you like skin and bones.”

“In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.”

“Maybe some love is guaranteed? Maybe if it fits snugly and perfectly inside you and around you? Like your skin and bones...”