I really don't know what "I love you" means
I think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such
Although I liked a few folk pretty well
Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch
for brave men died and empires rose and fell
For love, girls follow boys to foreign lands
and men have followed women into hell
In plays and poems someone understands
there’s something makes us more than blood and bone
and more than biological demands
For me love’s like the wind, unseen, unknown
I see the trees are bending where it’s been
I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown
I really don’t know what "I love you" means
I think it means "don’t leave me here alone

Delirium: "What's the name of the word for the precise moment when you realize that you've actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago?"
Dream: "There isn't one."
Delirium: "Oh. I thought maybe there was.

Writing is flying in dreams. When you remember. When you can. When it works. It’s that easy.

She prays she's bought another clutch of days. We save our lives in such unlikely ways.

The moment that you feel, just possibly, you are walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind, and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself…That is the moment, you might be starting to get it right.