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You only get one life. It's actually your duty to live it as fully as possible.

Some mistakes... Just have greater consequences than others. But you don't have to let the result of one mistake be the thing that defines you. You, Clark, have the choice not to let that happen.

I will never, ever regret the things I've done. Because most days, all you have are places in your memory that you can go to.

All I can say is that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful. I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.

You can only actually help someone who wants to be helped.

Push yourself. Don’t settle. Wear those stripy legs with pride. And if you insist on settling down with some ridiculous bloke, make sure some of this is squirreled away somewhere. Knowing you still have possibilities is a luxury. Knowing I might have given them to you has alleviated something for me.

I hadn’t realized that music could unlock things in you, could transport you to somewhere even the composer hadn’t predicted. It left an imprint in the air around you, as if you carried its remnants with you when you went.

You are scored on my heart,Clark. You were from the first day you walked in,with your ridiculous clothes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt.

...I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn't have met, and who didn't like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other.

I realized I was afraid of living without him. How is it you have the right to destroy my life, I wanted to demand of him, but I’m not allowed a say in yours? But I had promised.

I thought, briefly, that I would never feel as intensely connected to the world, to another human being, as I did at that moment.

Do you know how hard it is to say nothing? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite? I had practiced not saying anything the whole way from the airport, and it was still nearly killing me.

How am I supposed to live with that?.

I know this isn’t a conventional love story. I know there are all sorts of reasons I shouldn’t even be saying what I am. But I love you. I do. I knew it when I left Patrick. And I think you might even love me a little bit.

... if you're going to wear a dress like that you need to wear it with confidence. You need to fill it out mentally as well as physically.

I kissed him, trying to bring him back. I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against him. I wanted to will something into him. I wanted to give him every bit of life I felt and force him to live.

The thing about being catapulted into a whole new life--or at least, shoved up so hard against someone else's life that you might as well have your face pressed against their window--is that it forces you to rethink your idea of who you are. Or how you might seem to other people.

How do you know? You’ve done nothing, been nowhere. How do you have the faintest idea what kind of person you are?.

Sometimes , Clark, you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning -Will Traynor <3.

I let him know a hurt had been mended in a way that he couldn’t have known, and for that alone there would always be a piece of me indebted to him.

And I don't want to look at you every day, to see you naked,to watch you wandering around the annexe in your crazy dresses and not...not be able to do what I want with you. Oh, Clark,if you had any idea what I want to do to you right now.And I...i can't live with that knowledge. I can't. It's Not who I am. I can't be the kind of man who just...accepts.

He smelt of the sun, as if it had seeped deep into his skin, and I found myself inhaling silently, as if he were something delicious.

You're going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone.

I am conscious that knowing me has caused you pain, and grief, and I hope that one day when you are less angry with me and less upset you will see not just that I could only have done the thing that I did, but also that this will help you live a really good life, a better life, than if you hadn’t met me.

We are all part of some great cycle, some pattern that it was only God's purpose to understand.

Just live well. Just live.

I'm not going to try and change your mind." "If you're here, you accept it's my choice. This is the first thing I've been in control of since the accident." "I know." And there it was. He knew it, and I knew it. There was nothing left for me to do. Do you know how hard it is to say nothing ? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite? I just tried to be, tried to absorb the man I loved through osmosis, tried to imprint what I had left of him on myself. I did not speak...

I want him to live if HE wants to live. If he doesn't, then by forcing him to carry on, you, me..... we become just another shitty bunch of people taking away his choices.

Just hold on. Just for a minute." "Are you all right ?" I found my gaze dropping towards his chair, afraid some part of him was pinched, or trapped, that I had got something wrong. "I'm fine. I just...I don't want to go in just yet. I just want to sit and not have to think about...I just...want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more...

I held him close and said nothing, all the while telling him silently that he was loved. Oh, but he was loved.

I just... want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more.

Don't think of me too often. I don't want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well. Just live.

So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in, with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours. Don’t think of me too often. I don’t want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well. Just live. Love, Will.

Astonishingly, not all girls get dressed just to please men.

You're going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone but I hope you feel exhilarated too. Live boldly. Push yourself. Don't settle. Just live well. Just live.

I worked out what would make me happy, and I worked out what I wanted to do, and I trained myself to do the job that would make those two things happen.

How could you live each day knowing that you were simply whiling away the days until your own death?.

I am not plain, but I don't think anyone is ever going to call me beautiful. I don't have that graceful thing going on.

There are normal hours, and then there are invalid hours, where time stalls and slips, where life---real life---seems to exist at one remove.

And there it was. He knew it, and I knew it. There was nothing left for me to do. Do you know how hard it is to say nothing ? When every atom of you strains to do the opposite? I just tried to be, tried to absorb the man I loved through osmosis, tried to imprint what I had left of him on myself. I did not speak...

What if I like watching television? What if I don't want to do much else other than read a book?... What if I'm tired when I get home? What if I don't fill my days with frenetic activity?" "But one day you might wish you had.

She went kind of pink and laughed, the kind of laugh you do when you know yo shouldn't be laughing. The kind of laugh that spoke of a conspiracy.

I worked out what would make me happy, and I worked out what I wanted to do, and I trained myself to do the job that would make those two things happen' 'You make it sound so simple.' 'It is simple,' he said. 'The thing is, it's also a lot of hard work. And people don't want to put in a lot of work.

Everything takes time... and that's something that your generation find it a lot harder to adjust to. You have all grown up expecting things to go your way almost instantaneously. You all expect to live the lives you chose. Especially a successful young man like yourself. But it takes time.

I had a hundred and seventeen days in which to convince Will Traynor that he had a reason to live.

I'm giving you this because there is not much that makes me happy any more, but you do.

Why do women always have to go over and over a situation until it becomes a problem?.

I loved the sensual pleasures of being outside, the smell of it, the feel of the earth under my fingers, the satisfaction of seeing things living, glowing, captivated by their own temporary beauty.

Its not a matter of giving you a chance. I've watched you these six months becoming a whole different person, someone who is only just beginning to see her possibilities. You have no idea how happy that has made me. I don't want you to be tied to me, to my hospital appointments, to the restrictions on my life. I don't want you to miss out on the things someone else could give you.

Sometimes when you get hammered till the small hours you feel pretty good in the morning, but really it's just because you're still a bit drunk. That old hangover is just toying with you, working out when to bite.

Oh, lighten up, Clark. I’m the one having scalding hot air directed at my genitals.

Good to meet you, Patrick," Will said. "And thank you for the...advice." "Oh, just trying to help my girlfriend get the best out of her job," he said. "That's all." There was a definite emphasis on the word my. "Well, you're a lucky man," Will said, as Nathan began to steer him out. "She certainly gives a good bed bath." The words came out so quickly that the door was closed before Patrick even realized what he had said.

It's complicated.' 'So's quantitative easing. But I still get that it means printing money.

You’re the most terrible snob, Clark." "What? Me?" "You cut yourself off from all sorts of experiences because you tell yourself you are 'not that sort of person'." "But, I’m not." "How do you know? You’ve done nothing, been nowhere. How do you have the faintest idea what kind of person you are?.

I was twenty-six years old and I wasn't really sure about what I was. You probably wouldn't look at me twice. An ordinary girl, leading an ordinary life. It actually suited me fine.

Don't think of me too often. I don't want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well. Just live. Love, Will.

I could hear her babbling away beside me, but I wasn't really paying attention. I could barely focus on anything. My nerve endings seemed to have come alive; they almost jangled with anticipation I was going to see Will. Whatever else, I had that. I could almost feel the miles between us shrinking, as if we were at two ends of some invisible elastic thread.

So… I’ll go back and tell the Traynors that I’m going to get their suicidal quadriplegic son drunk, spend their money on strippers and lap dancers, and then trundle him off to the Disability Olympics—.

But I want him to live if he wants to live. If he doesn't, then by forcing him to carry on, you, me - no matter how much we love him - we become just another shitty bunch of people taking away his choices.

I know we can do this. I know it's not how you would have chosen it, but I know I can make you happy. And all I can say in that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful, I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.

You know, you can only actually help someone who wants to be helped.

I was good at keeping secrets from my parents (it's one of the things we learn while growing up, after all).

First I put on what I thought of as my ‘artistic’ outfit, a green smock dress with huge amber beads stitched into it. I imagined the kind of people who went to concerts might be quite arty and flamboyant. Will and Nathan both stared at me as I entered the living room. ‘No,’ said Will, flatly. ‘That looks like something my mum would wear,’ said Nathan. ‘You never told me your mum was Nana Mouskouri,’ Will said.

They began to tune up, and suddenly the auditorium was filled with a single sound - the most alive, three-dimensional thing I had ever heard. It made the hairs on my skin stand up, my breath catch in my throat....I felt the music like a physical thing; it didn't just sit in my ears, it flowed through me, around me, made my senses vibrate. It made my skin prickle and my palms dampen...It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard.

They say you only really appreciate a garden once you reach a certain age, and I suppose there is a truth in that. It’s probably something to do with the great circle of life. There seems to be something miraculous about seeing the relentless optimism of new growth after the bleakness of winter, a kind of joy in the difference every year, the way nature chooses to show off different parts of the garden to its full advantage.

I wondered if she knew that everything she said made the other person feel like an idiot. I wondered if it was something she'd actually cultivated deliberately. I didn't think I could ever manage to make someone feel inferior.

The worst thing about working as a caregiver is not what you might think. IT's not the lifting and cleaning, the medicines and wipes, and the distant but somehow always perceptible smell of disinfectant. IT's not even the fact that most people assume you're only doing it because you really aren't smart enough to do anything else. It's the fact that when you spend all day in proximity to someone, there is no escape from their moods. Or your own.

I should have listened to my father. "Want to know the true definition of the triumph of hope over experience?" he would say. "Plan a fun family day out.

I chose to believe that God, a benign God, would understand our sufferings and forgive us our trespasses.