“It went like this: Boxes. So many boxes. Everything packed up. “We’re leaving,” my father said. “Why?” I asked. “Because we have to.” “Why?” I asked. “Because it’s what we must do.” “Why?” I asked. “I don’t have a choice.” “Why?” I asked. That was the day I learned even my father could cry.”
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“Only if ... these must be the two saddest words in the world.”
“I have a wont for choosing hearts... to which another holds the key.”
“We are not born good or bad. We become so by choice, even when choice is not always ours.”
“I talked to a mourning petal that day about all the hurting stories I did not tell anyone.”