As he attempted to wrap his mind around the truth, something collapsed within him as if he had constructed a mansion of cards-a cathedral of dreams- and with a breath, it tumbled down.

I don’t want you. I love you, and that love surpasses all want in such a way I could never have you and still feel at peace. I could throw rice at your wedding, hold your firstborn, watch you live without me . . . and I’d handle it all perfectly well because love—this tether binding me to you—would endure.

Love was not based on whether the right girl ended up with the right boy. Love just was—was there in one’s chest, stubborn and certain. But sometimes the right girl did end up with the right boy. Sometimes their love won.

You don’t know what love is until you find it,” he whispered, “but when you do, promise me you won’t let it go. Promise you’ll seek it out even when you’re scared it’ll hurt.

Every moment of contact between us seems important—every glance, every touch, every word. I don’t understand him, but I know him, and he knows me. It’s this strange connection we share. No matter how often we fight, lie, make mistakes, I choose him and deep down, I think he chooses me, too.

I know who you are,” Jack whispers. “I’ve always known you.” His hands glide up my arms, from the angles of my wrists to the creases of my elbows. He presses his mouth to my left ear—I shiver from his breath. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.

Marriage isn't a fairy godmother waving a wand to change a pumpkin into a carriage. It doesn't instantly transform people into better versions of themselves; instead, it brings couples together and asks them to use love as a reason to become better.

If a boy can manage to have coffee with me during the apocalypse, I know he cares. There’s not a speck of doubt in my mind. He must care.

I’d rather not know what lies ahead because I like the dark. I like thinking there is something good in the places I can’t see. And that’s not ignorance. That’s just hope.