"I’m in love with you because you make me feel safe. It sounds corny and vague. People always talk about feeling safe with someone and you wonder what it even means. I still don’t really know. All I know is that when I’m with you, I feel like I’m clutching a giant thing of pepper spray or reliving a moment of being carried to bed by my parents when I was five years old and fell asleep in front of the television. All day long, I can feel fragile, like a raw nerve, and when I come home to you, it’s like I just put on the thickest winter coat and installed bulletproof windows in my apartment. ‘Honey, I’m home…and no longer terrified.’"
"When they ask me about my future wife, I always tell them that her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I tell them that she has a walk that can make an atheist believe in God just long enough to say, ‘God damn’. I tell them that if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them that if she came in a bottle, I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. I tell them that if she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her, cover to cover, hoping to find typos, just so we could both have something to work on, because aren’t we all unfinished?"