I don't measure her love in hours spent with me. I measure it in hours spent understanding me.

I made you a mix tapeThat I worried you’d hateBut you called me at three a.m.With it playingSoftly sayingSong number threeIs about you and meand I’ve felt the same way for a while

Everyone hurts us. If we stopped loving them because of pain, we'd never love anyone.

I kiss her back. Because. . .well, she's so present. So alive. So magnanimous. And when she is kissing me, all the death of the last week disappears.