It was a secret time and place, you next to me, untraceable and out of this world.

You know I want to be a director, but you could never truly see the movies in my head and that, Ed, is why we broke up.

Desperation is like a spilled drink: even if it’s delicious, no one will get near it. Cultivate an aura of glamorous unapproachability.

Love is like Downton Abbey: the first season is delightfully breathless, although some characters see war brewing and then the second season gets a little dull, and you start to make bets on who’s going to die.

This is love, to sit with someone you’ve known forever in a place you’ve been meaning to go, and watching as their life happens to them until you stand up and it’s time to go.

The clock in his car hadn’t adjusted to daylight saving time yet and said it was four-fifteen when it was really five-fifteen. Peter probably didn’t have time to fiddle with it, or it was tricky, as car clocks are. I didn’t mind. You can’t mind these things, you just can’t, for to dislike what makes a person human is to dislike all humans, or at least other people who can’t work clocks. You have to love the whole person, if you are truly in love. If you are going to take a lifelong journey with somebody, you can’t mind if the other person believes they are leaving for that journey an hour earlier than you, as long as truly, in the real world, you are both leaving at exactly the same time.