“It didn't matter if Aria was hundreds of miles away, or whether she'd hurt him, or said goodbye, or anything else. Nothing would change the way he felt. The moment Aria had taken his hand on the roof at Marron's, she'd changed everything. No matter what happened, she'd always be the one.”
“It didn't matter to her whether she'd written anything brilliant. It just felt good to be able to write again.”
“Fuck. This was bad. It had happened, hadn't it? The thing she thought would never happen, the thing she was always so careful not to have happen. She'd lost count, she'd lost track of what exactly she'd taken, and it had happened.”
“Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.”
“But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.”
“But quitting didn't change what she'd already done. The piece of her past that she'd never be able to outrun.”