“He whistles. Que viva Colombia. Hands you back the Book. You really should write the cheater’s guide to love.You think?I do. It takes a while. You see the tall girl. You go to more doctors. You celebrate Arlenny’s Ph.D defense. And then one June night you scribble the ex’s name and: The half-life of love is forever. You bust out a couple more things. Then you put your head down. The next day you look at the new pages. For once you don’t want to burn them or give up writing forever. It’s a start, you say to the room. That’s about it. In the months that follow you bend to the work, because it feels like hope, like grace—and because you know in your lying cheater’s heart that sometimes a start is all we ever get.”

“This is what I know; people’s hopes go on forever.”

“Dude, you don’t want to be dead. Take it from me. No-pussy is bad. But dead is like no-pussy times ten.”

“Success, after all, loves a witness, but failure can’t exist without one.”

“Our relationship wasn’t the sun, the moon, the stars, but it wasn’t bullshit, either.”

“Here at last is her smile: burn it into your memory; you won’t see it often.”

“If you didn’t grow up like I did then you don’t know, and if you don’t know it’s probably better you don’t judge.”

“She was the kind of girlfriend God gives you young, so you’ll know loss the rest of your life.”

“You can’t regret the life you didn’t lead.”

“That’s life for you. All the happiness you gather to yourself, it will sweep away like it’s nothing. If you ask me I don’t think there are any such things as curses. I think there is only life. That’s enough.”