“But you can only go so long being angry before you learn to hate.”

“Just so you know,” I inform him, “one day, I’m going to get tired of sharing your affection with that coffee table and I’m going to make you choose.” “Just so you know,” he mimics me, “I would chop that table up and use it for firewood before I would ever choose anything over you.”

“I’m going to walk over to you,” I say, taking one step at a time in her direction like I’m talking down a jumper. “I’m going to put my arms around you and I’m going to hold you,” I pause before taking the last step, “and you’re going to let me.”

“You didn’t get a choice in what happened to you. Neither didwe. But you have a choice in what happens now. We don’t. You’re the one in control and all we can do is sit on the sidelines and watch, even if youkeep making the wrong calls over and over again.” We’re obviously veering into sports metaphor territory. “We’re not going to force you to doanything you aren’t ready to do. You’ve had enough forced on you. But you have to make a decision about how long you’re going to let this defineyour life.”

“There are so many things that can break you if there's nothing to hold you together.”

“Just so you know,” he mimics me, “I would chop that table up and use it for firewood before I would ever choose anything over you.”

“It's a little bit devastating being surrounded by people who can do what you can't anymore. People who create. People whose souls don't live in their bodies anymore because they've leached so much of themselves into their work.”