Who are we if not a product of our parents and their histories.

He was some exotic planet, and I was his favorite satellite. But he’s no planet, just the final fading light of an already dead star. And I’m not a satellite. I’m space junk, hurtling as far as I can away from him.

Maybe part of falling in love with someone else is also falling in love with yourself.

America’s not really a melting pot. It’s more like one of those divided metal plates with sperate sections for starch, meat, and veggies.

Hope is the thing with feathers.

Sincerity is sexy

Names are powerful things. They act as an identity marker and a kind of map, locating you in time and geography. More than that, they can be a compass.

It’s hard to come from someplace or someone you’re not proud of.

I love this part of getting to know someone. How every new piece of information, every new expression, seems magical.

There’s a Japanese phrase that I like: koi no yokan. It doesn’t mean love at first sight. It’s closer to love at second sight. […] Maybe you don’t love them right away, but it’s inevitable that you will.

As our eyes meet, I get a kind of déjà vu, but instead of feeling like I’m repeating something in the past, it feels like I’m experiencing something that will happen in my future.

It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t love you back.