Meaningless

People who never ask how you are doing, but always want to tell you about themselves are not your real friends. People who only hang out when it’s convenient and never make an effort to come to you when you are always making an effort to  see them or make time for them are not your real friends. Life is too short for meaningless one-sided friendships and energy vampires.
—  Shiree Scarlet
4

Alphonse Elric: Say, Brother, have you found the answer to “One is all, all is one”? I’ve been thinking about it all this time, but I only have a vague idea about it.
Edward Elric: I’m not sure about this, but remember when I was weak from hunger, and ate those ants?
Alphonse Elric: You did?
Edward Elric: Mm-hmm, I ate them, They were sour as hell, too. But then, I thought, if I didn’t eat them, and died, I’d be eaten by ants, or the foxes. I’d go back to the earth, and become grass. The rabbits would eat that.
Alphonse Elric: The food chain, right?
Edward Elric: Yeah. And it’s not just that. Long ago, this whole island may have been at the bottom of the sea. In tens of thousands of years, it might be the peak of a mountain.
Alphonse Elric: All things are connected?
Edward Elric: Everything is in the middle of a great, unseen flow. I don’t know if you’d call it the universe, or the world, or whatever. Looking at it as this huge thing. Al, you and I are like ants. One small part within the flow. Nothing more than one fraction of the whole. But putting all those small “ones” together allows the “all” to exist…

Just for future reference, don’t use words like “love” anymore. It’s a very sensitive word and it wears out quickly. Romeo barely says it, but John Hinckley filled up a whole journal with it. To put it into your terms, it’s a currency that’s easily devalued. Pretty soon you’re saying it whenever you hang up the phone or whenever you leave. It turns into an apology. Then it’s an excuse. Some assholes want it to be a bulletproof vest: don’t hate me; I love you. But mostly it just means—more. More, more—give me something more. A couple of years from now, when you’re on your own completely, if you really fall in love, if it really comes to that—and I pity you if it does—you have to look right down into the black of her eyes, right down into the emptiness in there and feel everything, absolutely everything she needs and you have to be willing to drown in it, Kevin. You’d have to want to be crushed, buried alive. Because that’s what real love feels like—choking. They used to bury some women in their wedding dresses, you know. I thought it was because all those husbands were too cheap to spring for another gown, but now it makes sense: love is your first foot in the grave. That’s why the second most abused word is “forever”.
—  Hot Plastic (Peter Craig)