“I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.”

“Oh gods... oh gods... I had hurt him... so many times, I had hurt him. By trying to hurt myself, I had hurt him. By trying to push him away, I had hurt him. Every time I opened my mouth and belittled myself with my "turns of rough poetry", I had sliced his heart as fine as my wrists. I did not know why he loved me as he did. I might never know. But as I stood there and held him, my back nagging at me and my leg screaming in protest, I realized that the least I could do was welcome his love with an open heart. And part of doing that was loving myself enough to want to live.”

“My grandfather was hurt but none of us could get inside of him not the doctor not pictures not his sister or daughter or any of his grandchildren to make it stop.”

“I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my arms around him, kissing him just as desperately as he was kissing me. Like if we could just love long enough and hard enough and deep enough, then the world outside would never, could never hurt us.”

“I could never hurt you as bad as you try to hurt yourself,”

“I know why we laugh. We laugh because it hurts, and it's the only thing to make it stop hurting.”