what do you call a laughing jar of mayonnaise
"But I like you.” He cleared his throat. “I like you first and second and third."
"Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer."
"Would you believe in what you believe in if you were the only one who believed it?"
"Choose me when I am angry—when I’ve put a splinter in you with my silence. Choose me when there is not enough tea in the world to warm me. Choose me when there’s a torrential downpour somewhere in me even when it’s sunny outside. Choose me when I swear—when I say things I wouldn’t say—when I am tired of the same food over and over again—when I cry over an argument over the doctor’s best companion—when I don’t understand why it’s such a shock to you that I cried. Carry on choosing me when you don’t understand why I can’t touch you when I’m sad. I will kiss you again when the sadness wears. But god, carry on choosing me. I will love you so much for it."