I wrote this about you, about our love, our story. And I feel so damn lucky that others in this world, strangers in other parts, can steal a piece of what we have and feel so lucky too.

This isn’t Sex and the City, and life isn’t a Nicholas Sparks novel. The best kind of love is one that is calming on the spirit, easy on the heart, fulfilling and completing.

My skyscraper of a heart met an earthquake of a woman. Why can’t I meet a simple window washer? My love is a hundred stories tall—and I wrote every single one of those stories.

For if you try to forget yourself, force your heart and thoughts to become indifferent to the sight before you and take share of that entity which seems like one of the courses of the meal.

Maybe she had it wrong all this time and her empty heart could never be filled by his ingenious broken spirit. Maybe this yearning had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with her.

He realized, you see, that he was stupid enough to fall in love with a woman he never saw with his eyes, but that's okay, my dear, because the heart doesn't need eyes to fall in love.

As David Zucker watched the casket of his late wife being lowered into the ground, he thought the worst must surely be over and it was time to start the slow healing process to begin life anew.

The sky had lightened when they got up from the sand. They shook the blanket before wrapping it around them both. Cuddling close they entered the hotel, shivering as they stood in the elevator.

Mags, I don’t know how many more times I will have to say this, but here it goes. You’re amazing, you deserve the best, and I want nothing more than to be whatever you need me to be.

This is me, asking a risk-taker like you to trust me. To let me love you until I take my last breath. These were my last solo flights. From now on I want to wing everything with you and only you.

I’ve never really had a party before.” “Why did you have one now?” I say, just to keep him talking. He gives a half laugh. “I thought if I had a party, you would come.

Look at this, Grace," Peg's e-mail said. "He's entrancing those people. I just realized. Taking them out of themselves. Ty is sort of like a medicine man. A shaman. P.S. Have you called him?

He’s an indulgent sort of man……With a quick lip and a fierce tongue, the sort of tongue that draws you in with charm and words of praise, awkward silences and desperate worships.

Love may not be enough to wake a child in the morning, dress him, and get him to school, then to feed him at night, bathe him, and put him to bed. Still, can any of us imagine a childhood without it?

Only LEFT and RIGHT hand can hold each other and walk together...Only RIGHTs are enough to say bye.Nobody is perfect in the world, if you Love the perfection of his/her imperfections then LOVE exists.