This is the true and impossible story of my very great love. In the hope that she will not read this and reproach me, I have withheld many prying details — her name, the in particulars of her birth and upbringing, and any identifying scars or birthmarks. All the same, I cannot help but write this for her, to tell her: I’m sorry for every word I wrote to change you, I’m sorry for so many things. I couldn’t see you when you were here and now that you’re gone, I see you everywhere. One may read this and think of magic, but falling in love is an act of magic — so is writing. It was once said of Catcher in the Rye: That rare miracle of fiction has again come to pass: a human being has been created out of ink, paper, and the imagination. I am no JD Salinger but I have witnessed a rare miracle. Any writer can attest — in the luckiest, happiest state, the words are not coming from you but through you. She came to me wholly herself, I was just lucky enough to be there to catch her.
From the movie Ruby Sparks