The world can fall to pieces around us, but in the end, we’ll always make it back to us.

There’s a little blackness inside all of us.

Life has shown me all too often that there is no rhyme or reason to the cruelty inflicted upon humanity.

If love is a drug, then it’s the kind that should be prescribed.

With every choice you risk the life you could have had. With every decision you lose it.

It’s not really the love that I envy, it’s the trust. The feeling that no matter how bad you screw up, there is always someone who will accept you and love you for who you are; not because they have to, just because they can’t not love you.

Sometimes, you just have to reassure the ones you love in precise language that you’ll always be there. Sometimes words are enough.

Because sometimes you have to suffer without the things you want now so you can have everything you need later.

Family is not always the people with whom you share DNA. Sometimes, family is the person who fights the hardest for your happiness.

Love is not black and white. It’s not even gray. Love is every shade of color in the spectrum, changing with every ray of light given and stolen.