Love doesn't come with an on-off switch. It's made of too many threads of memory and hope and heartache that weave themselves into the very core of who you are.

Her hands crept around his neck, tangling in his hair to keep him closer, even though she knew that beautiful boys with expiration dates couldn't be held, only borrowed for a time.

We've lost a lot of years, but you can't lose love. Not real love. It stays locked inside you, ready for whenever you are strong enough to find it again.

Learning to love yourself is easier when you have someone to show you how.

It occurred to her that all the bad parts of life, the sad parts, the frightening ones, were meant to be offset by moments and memories like this. She had to be present in it, right here, right now.

When you loved someone, you couldn’t hold back. Love was a leap into the unknown, not a cautious dipping of the toe.

Ultimately, wasn’t dance a whispered question? A story told through the position of a foot, the tilt of a head, the touch of a hand, the brush of an eye. A rite of passage. A claiming.

You didn’t find strength when you couldn’t live without it. You found it when you had someone or something you loved so much that it forced you to stretch the edges of yourself further than you thought was possible.

Which was worse, telling a person you loved them when you didn’t mean it? Or loving them and never telling them at all?