You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one

am i wrong in still being prepared to say, hey, lets fix this.

love is fragile, she was thinking, but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said.

too young to hold on; too old to just break free and run

i see love, i see love when i close my eyes

so darling lets keep our eyes, closed.

I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two seperate beings to hinge together.

just be my friend.

we should look forward, not backward, and build something new.

i fell for it again, didn'i i?

these bones, they are aching. this is enough.

i'm tired of being your ghost, so see me go

i can finally split the boy with passion like fire from the one who doesn't have the decency to look me in the eye. you're weak, and i didn't do this to you. you made your own choices. where is your backbone, your courage?. this mess isn't okay, but it doesn't even bother you what we've become. you're not ashamed, even regretful.

but thankyou; thankyou for making it clear who you are these days. it saves me guessing.

you shouldn't have had to lose friends for her. you shouldn't have had to gain this new reputation. i can't help but think you'd be a better person if you were with me; but maybe this person you are now is who you prefer to be.

has this happened because you're with her; or because you're finally free of me?

we can't tell

the future no

the first kiss, the beauty of the world we know

i can't listen to your song anymore; its like swallowing glass.

i'm so embarrased, i'm so ashamed. you terrify me.

it's something beautiful, that moment when you're flying just above the clouds.

you're more than beautiful, he said.

how am i more than beautiful? beautiful is a superlative; you can't have more than the most.

because beautiful is only a word, my love.

I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.

I like to see people reunited, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.

Do you think I'm wonderful? she asked him one day as they leaned against the trunk of a petrified maple. No, he said. Why? Because so many girls are wonderful. I imagine hundreds of men have called their loves wonderful today, and it's only noon. You couldn't be something that hundreds of others are.

- Everything Is Illuminated

she let out a laugh, and then she put a hand over her mouth, like she was angry at herself for forgetting her sadness.

do you honestly like the person you are when you're with her?

you terrify me.

i broke up with a beautiful woman because i wasn't ready and it terrified me. i could see myself being with her for the rest of my life. seeing her tears broke my heart and i'll never forget the pain in her eyes. i knew i'd made a terrible mistake.

these days, her affection, intensity and adoration is something i crave, and i can't seem to find it anymore. i had it all, and i threw it away.

i know, oh i know.

he was crying when he opened the door and saw us, because he had been waiting for someone to come back to him, so every time someone knocked on the door, he couldn't stop himself from hoping that it might be that person, even though he knew he shouldn't hope.

now if i had an answer, it wouldn't really be love, would it?

Young friends, whose string-and-tin-can phone extended from island to island, had to pay out more and more string, as if letting kites go higher and higher.
"It's getting almost impossible to hear you," said the young girl from her bedroom in Manhattan, as she squinted through a pair of her father's binoculars, trying to find her friend's window.
"I'll holler if I have to," said her friend from his bedroom in the Sixth Borough, aiming last birthday's telescope at her apartment.
The string between them grew incredibly long, so long it had to be extended with many other strings tied together: the wind of his yo-yo, the pull from her talking doll, the twine that had fastened his father's diary, the waxy string that had kept her grandmother's pearls around her neck and off the floor, the thread that had separated his great-uncle's childhood quilt from a pile of rags. Contained within everything they shared with one another were the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, and the quilt. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string.
The boy asked the girl to say "I love you" into her can, giving her no further explanation.
And she didn't ask for any, or say, "That's silly" or "We're too young for love" or even suggest that she was saying "I love you" because he asked her to. Her words traveled the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, the quilt, the clothesline, the birthday present, the harp, the tea bag, the table lamp, the tennis racket, the hem of the skirt he one day should have pulled from her body . The boy covered his can with a lid, removed it from the string, and put her love from him on a shelf in his closet. Of course, he could never open the can, because then he would lose its contents. It was enough just to know that it was there.

-Jonathan Safran Foer

I put my hand on him. Touching him was always so important to me. It was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches. My fingers against his shoulder. The outsides of our thighs touching as we squeezed together on the bus. I couldn't explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our little touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love? Why does anyone ever make love?

-Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer

blue eyed

boy meets

a

brown eyed

girl

oh - oh

oh

the sweetest thing

"You & I stand on the cusp of something beautiful. The road ahead is narrow, it may twist in directions we don’t want it to go but together, I see us making it."

'to say that she was unlike any other girl he'd ever known was something of an understatement. there was so much about her that fascinated him; her extreme independence, the way she would go walking the streets alone for hours, her innate ability to find her way wherever she was, the strange, shadowy wildness he glimpsed in her sometimes when her guard was down. there were no subtexts to decipher, no frosty atmostpheres to navigate. and whenever he saw her, he would be overwhelmed by his need to touch her. within a few moments his fingers would be itching for her. and as the months passed, little by little he began to feel surer of his place in her life. '

sometimes you pop into my head and i just can't breathe, he says

"i'm convinced that the world is not small. that our meetings are not chance and our coincidences are not so. i'm convinced that the world is big. our journey is long, and the ones we meet along the way and get to share moments with are exactly the ones we should love with all the boldness and tenacity we can muster in our hearts. after all, the world is full of people who love, so what else is there to do, but love in return."

you, always

oh, if it doesn't break your heart it isn't love.

no, you haven't lost me yet.

"I loved you then and I love you now and I have loved you every second in between.