The look in her eyes told me that under any other circumstances, I would either already be naked with her on top of me, or lying in a pool of my own blood on the rug.

Wait, you remember that?"
"Of course I remember that. You sounded like a frat boy and looked like a fucking model. What man could ever forget that?"
"I would have given anything to know what you were thinking right then."
"I was thinking, 'Highly fuckable intern, twelve o'clock. Disengage, soldier. I repeat, disengage.

You have very Grace Kelly-like tendencies about you. I hear Grace Kelly had a filthy mouth too," he added.

"You love my filthy mouth."

"True. But I like it better when its full," he said, meaningful smirk in place.

"You know, if you would shut up once in a while you'd be damn near perfect."

"But I'd be a silent panty ripper, which I think is a lot creepier than the angry-boss panty ripper.

Everybody starts out as strangers.

It’s about the dream of second chances,” he says finally. He hasn’t raised his eyes from the paper on his desk and I feel him looking at me without looking when he uses his grandfather’s words. “The narrator doesn’t respect the beauty of life and the world around her, so it crushes her into the ground and once she’s dead, she realizes everything she took for granted and didn’t see right in front of her while she was alive. She’s begging for another chance to live again so she can appreciate it this time.”
“And does she get that chance?” she asks Josh while I desperately focus on the poster of literary terms on the wall and wait for absolution. When it comes, I barely hear it.
“She does.

I was really proud of the kids. They wore red ribbons across their hearts for Ryan, and they also dedicated their medium ensemble to him. It won and they took the medal to the hospital for him.