She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of

The Soul May Not Be Destroyed. The Soul Goes On Forever. Like The Number Pi, It Is Without Cessation Or Conclusion. Like Pi It Is A Constant. Pi Is An Irrational Number, Incapable Of Being Made Into A Fraction, Impossible To Divide From Itself. So, Too, The Soul Is An Irrational, Indivisible Equation That Perfectly Expresses One Thing: You.

I Hope If There Is Another World, We Will Not Be Judged Too Harshly For The Things We Did Wrong Here—that We Will At Least Be Forgiven For The Mistakes We Made Out Of Love.

Her Sanity Was A Fragile Thing, A Butterfly Cupped In Her Hands, That She Carried With Her Everywhere, Afraid Of What Would Happen If She Let It Go-or Got Careless And Crushed It.

Don't Ever Have Children, Tyler, Unless You're Ready To Be Afraid Everyday For The Rest Of Your Life.

She Just Knew That Even When You Had Nothing, You Still Had Love.