“I’m not perfect. And I don’t have to be. I can figure it out as I go, and as long as I do the best I can, it’s okay if I still screw up.”

“I understood then why humans have noses. So we can find each other to kiss in the dark.”

“Why does this feel so right?" I murmured past the tightness in my throat."Why do you keep fighting this feeling?""Because I'm not supposed to want this."His smile returned, slowly curving his lips up. "But you do anyway.”

“How could two people seem so perfect together, be so happy together, an yet be so wrong in so many others' eyes?”

“I was still convinced that I was going to wake up, or walk out of a bathroom, or look up from my homework to discover I'd imagined the whole thing.”

“Well," I said, "I have to go."He said, "Can I call you?"I waited a long time before answering, though not, of course, as long as he'd made me wait. I let him stand there with the question in the air while I took a good long look at him, let him stand there while I stepped to the street and raised my arm for a cab. At exactly that moment, as though dispatched by some god I didn't really believe in anymore - the god of drama or god of perfect things - or maybe by my own fairy god god, a cab came. I got in, and closed the door.”

“When I told the therapist that the “me” that I am now is the best me I can be, I was truthful. I’ve always given you my best, so when you say it's not enough, it chips away at the “best me.”