good sh*t

And I smiled too, and felt the soul-anchoring joy of being understood.

“Why do you think we never got together?” Sadie sat next to Sam on the bed. “Sammy,” she said. “We were together. You must know that. When I’m honest with myself, the most important parts of me were yours.”

And she died and I lived and a hole opened up, dark and bottomless, and I fell down and kept falling for centuries.

At twelve, she had already discovered the empty spaces that gathered between people.

To allow yourself to play with another person is no small risk. It means allowing yourself to be open, to be exposed, to be hurt. It is the human equivalent of the dog rolling on its back—I know you won’t hurt me, even though you can. It is the dog putting its mouth around your hand and never biting down. To play requires trust and love.

"Our reality isn’t about what’s real, it’s about what we pay attention to.”

It feels harder to write than it should. It feels easier to write than it should, as well.

From here, even in the darkness, she could make out the coastline. Here and there lights shone, marking peoples' lives.

The way to turn an ex-lover into a friend is to never stop loving them, to know that when one phase of a relationship ends it can transform into something else. It is to acknowledge that love is both a constant and a variable at the same time.