Summer in the City

Sometimes I think that love is one big fairy tale. I wonder if people who say they are in love, if – really – they’ve just talked themselves into it. They want it so badly, they kind of make it happen. They fake it until they start believing their own story. Maybe that’s just sour grapes or something. Maybe because it doesn’t happen to me, I don’t want to think it happens to anyone else.

Change can be good. It just depends on what we make of it.

Some people fall head over heels. Other people begin to fall without even knowing it—love grows like a spring flower beneath last autumn’s leaves and catches them by surprise.

Words are precious things meant to create, to imagine, to dream with.

I think I’m dying to get to know a particular guy. Then he opens his mouth and ruins it.