But it's up to us...' he said softly. 'it's up to us not to lose this.

The first time he'd held her hand, it felt so good that it crowded out all the bad things. It felt better than anything had ever hurt.

Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.

It was the nicest thing she could imagine. It made her want to have his babies and give him both of her kidneys.

My girlfriend is sad and quiet and keeps me up all night worrying about her.

Don't bite his face, Eleanor told herself. It's disturbing and needy and never happens in situation comedies or movies that end with big kisses.

Everytime, he breaks your heart. And everytime, he expects me to pick up the pieces.

Can't you just like a girl who likes you back?''None of them likes me back. I may as well like the one I really want.

She wanted to lose herself in him. To tie his arms around her like a tourniquet.If she showed him how much she needed him, he'd run away.

If you can’t save your own life, is it even worth saving?

There's no reason to think we're going to stop loving each other, ' he said. 'And there's every reason to think that we won't.

Renaissance philosophers often said that it is the soul that makes us human. We can turn that idea round and note that it is when we are most human that we have greatest access to the soul.

If there is anyone who owes everything to Bach, it is certainly God.

How easily we get trapped in that which is not essential - in looking good, winning at competition, gathering power and wealth - when simply being alive is the gift beyond measure.

The heart’s will is greater than the hand’s strength.

The thankful receiver bears a plentiful harvest.

If I cannot air this pain and alter it, I will surely die of it. That's the beginning of social protest.

Don't you ever touch me. Don't ever touch me. The last guy who touched me ended up on the ground dead.

Go now and wash yourself first, for the sun will laugh at you if he sees how dirty you are.

One learns the art of dying by learning the art of living: how to become master of the present moment.

Having lost sight of our goal, we must redouble our efforts!