We are traveling down a path with no happy ending, and it's too late to turn around.

The cure for grief is motion.

It is interesting how one word can spark memories that one believes she has buried beyond recognition.

Who would have listened to his tales of woe when his love was the flickering lamp over his own decaying tomb?

Love, he told himself, was open to interpretation like any other abstract indulgence but followed the same principles everywhere, irrespective of everything else. One, either won or lost in love, there was no bridge in between, and he decided he had lost, lost to himself, if not to her.

I love getting assists. There's no better way to win tonight than distribute the ball and get everyone involved in the scoring.