“My husband ran off with his secretary. His male secretary. the only passion I have lately seems to center around buying a handgun. Unfortunately, I can't decide which one of us to shoot.”

“How did you tell a man that you'd grown up, that you'd learned true love wasn't a night of passionate sex under a sky lit up by fireworks, but an ordinary Sunday morning when your husband brought you a glass of water, two aspirins, and a heating pad for your cramps?”

“I’m an insomniac lately. It’s one of the many prizes you find in the Cracker Jack box of a crumbling [relationship],”

“I didn't know how...deep love ran, how it was in your blood, not your heart, and how that same blood pumped through your veins your whole life.”

“To make real friends you have to put yourself out there. Sometimes people will let you down, but you can't let that stop you. If you get hurt, you just pick yourself up, dust off your feelings, and try again.”

“One thing I can tell you for sure is this: we only regret what we don't do in life.”

“He was afraid that the secrets she'd kept would always be here, inside him, an ugly malignant thing lodged near enough to his heart to upset its rhythm, and though it could be removed, cut out, there would always be scars; bits and pieces of it would remain in his blood, making it wrong somehow, so that if he accidentally sliced his skin open, his blood would--for one heartbeat--flow as black as India ink before it remembered that it should be red.”