“I've always thought it was about finding the right person. But it's about choosing the right person, isn't it?”

“It was finally becoming clear to her that love wasn't about finding someone perfect to marry. Love was about seeing through to the truth of a person, and accepting all their shades of light and dark. Love was an ability.”

“But I think if it's the right person, you wouldn't have to work so hard at intimacy.I think—hope—it would just happen naturally. Otherwise, opening up to the wrong person..." I made a face."Like putting ammo in their hands.”

“I reflected that for all the people you lost touch with or couldn't hold on to, life occasionally made up for it by giving you the right person at the right time.”

“It was a train wreck happening right in front of me and I couldn't do anything about it, except that not only was I watching, I was also the train.”

“I've got about ten things to say to you right now. But at least nine of them would make me sound like a psycho.”In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I nearly smiled. “What’s the tenth thing?” I asked his shirtfront. He paused, considering it. “Never mind,” he grumbled. “That one would make me sound like a psycho, too.”

“I don't really like this song," Emma had said."You told me it was your favourite.""It's beautiful. But it always makes me sad.""Why, love?" he'd asked gently. "It's about finding each other again. About someone coming home."Emma had lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him earnestly. "It's about losing someone, and having to wait until you're together in heaven.""There's nothing in the lyrics about heaven," he'd said."But that's what it means. I can't bear the idea of being separated from you, for a lifetime or a year or even a day. So you mustn't go to heaven without me.""Of course not," he had whispered. "It wouldn't be heaven without you.”