Author of quotes: Hannah Brencher

And if you have ever loved a person in such a way that when he enters a room, it seems as if all the oxygen evaporates from it instantly, then you know some truths. Here are the unchanging truths about love: you are ready to give this person everything in your world and beyond your orbit. And if he dreams that the morning will come, then you want to be for him this morning. And if he needs stars, you want to be those particles of light. And you also want to just sit next to him and know that he is doing well. You just want to be a witness to his greatness, you want to be right there, next to him, in this moment. You want this honor for yourself - to be in his life.

Maybe we don't need to give up our differences, the unique qualities that separate us. Maybe there's something powerful about standing knee-deep in the unity of things that make us not so far apart, things that make us nod our heads and whisper, "Me too..."

I wanted to warn Kate that before things get better, things will get worse. This is what happens when you miss a loved one. Leaves are falling. It's getting cold. We begin to recognize the voids of this earth, in which those who are no longer here remain. Memories hide behind Frank Sinatra ballads and leisurely Christmas carols. It's like the air is getting colder and we're saying something we never meant to say while the sun visors were everywhere: I miss you. And I'm sorry you're not here. And why can't you just be here? It's not fair. Life is Beautiful. But that doesn't make me miss you any less.

Never get back together. Never see you. Never be able to tell how blue suits you. Never is such a beautiful word, and sometimes I wish it meant something else, like "flecks of fallen gold on the windowsill" instead of "no, we won't see each other again. And it hurts."

They laughed and talked, and I could not understand why the world is still moving. Maybe I will never understand how the world can keep moving when the person you love is no more. How do people find the strength to get out of bed in the morning or stand in line at the cashier. Borrow books from the library. Buying fast food on the way home. When tragedy strikes, it seems like everything has to stop, at least for a while.

It's easier to let fear win. Fear is what leaves words untold. Fear makes us stand still. When he wins, it means we never got the courage to say the right thing. But these words are necessary. They cannot always fix, heal, or improve something. They will not return anyone to us, they will not interfere with farewell and they will not be perfect. But they will be true. Maybe that's the only thing we need from each other: true words, written with a love that seems too big to stick to the page in tiny little letters.

I wanted to be important. There was such a painful thing in me that craved recognition, love, adoration and admiration for what was made by my own hands. Such a feeling may start out small and innocent, but over time leaves ugly stains on the heart. The fuel will run out. Plans are sour. And you'll burn out quickly trying to build a temple for self-importance.

I've found it's easy to go all-in on things you can dictate and control. But when little is up to you and you have no idea where life will take you, it becomes difficult and scary to do this. But what if it is in those areas where there is no control that real life begins?

I cherish the hope that one day I will fall victim to a romantic love car accident. It's crazy to admit this to a stranger, but I want everything at once. I want passion - fast, and devotion - gradual. I want it to have strength and beauty. I believe that one day I will give my heart - like a read library book - to a man who decides to rip out the return date page and never let me go. But before I find that kind of love, I have to go out into the world and see what lies behind this first love of mine - New York City.

I cherish the hope that one day I will fall victim to a romantic love car accident. It's crazy to admit this to a stranger, but I want everything at once. I want passion - fast, and devotion - gradual. I want it to have strength and beauty. I believe that one day I will give my heart - like a read library book - to a man who decides to rip out the return date page and never let me go. But before I find that kind of love, I have to go out into the world and see what lies behind this first love of mine - New York City.

You know what the only thing I'm sure of in this whole goodbye thing? Sometimes you have to be really courageous, bite your lower lip and let people go. Completely, entirely. Whether you like it or not, you will still grow up and say goodbye much more often than you expected.

As if He were the one who speaks beautiful words at the moment when you want to fall on your knees in this peace. Then He might whisper in your ear, “You're fine. You have always been good to me. All your pieces, all the pieces are in place. Nothing you lost was wasted. You did not lose anything along the way that could not be renewed, restored, redone. You are whole. Stop looking for reasons not to be."

It was an honest and strange conversation with women I had never met before. None of us had all the answers. But that didn't seem like the goal. I needed to see it, like when you finally stop asking questions and start living the answers out loud.

I don't know what's really going on in heaven, if there's a giant staircase in heaven or a movie theater where you can see everything you've influenced in a sort of "Crash"-type adventure movie. But I know for sure that this is how our stories are arranged: the prints that we leave on the palms of others have the ability to pass from hand to hand. The smallest of our actions, which we forget, can help someone survive and endure. I have ceased to doubt such an impact, because faith in it - faith in miracles in the mud of everyday life - gives you a sense of purpose.