Were all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness, and call it love, true love.

You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not.

You love me. Real or not real? I tell him, Real.

Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.

There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.