A widower whose book about coping with loss turns him into a best-selling self-help guru, falls for the hotel florist where his seminar is given, only to learn that he hasn't yet truly confronted his wife's passing.

Burke: Funerals are important rituals. They're not only recognition that a person has died; they're recognition that a person has lived.
Burke: I happen to know a thing or two about people. You get approached a lot. Probably have since the day you strapped on your first training bra. But you're smart, and you're creative, and you're caring and big... But, how come the guys only see the package it comes in, sure... you're flattered. But ultimately, ultimately it's tiresome because it has nothing to do with you. You were born that way, you can't take credit for it. Your insides though, that's yours. That's what you want someone to truly see. Even a stranger. Ergo... you fake a handicap. Rather than to have a conversation with a fellow human being. You prefer sign language? Fine.
[shows middle finger]
Burke: During your travels, it's important to always keep one thing in mind: when one thing ends, something else begins.
Eloise: If you had a brain in either head, you'd know that I'm doing what's best for both of us.
Eloise: Can I say something? And, and this comes from a place of total humility. With the acknowledgment that my life is a day-by-day experiment in... really bad decisions. But, er... you're really messed up.
Burke: [first lines, in voice-over] Chapter one. Sometimes, despite your best efforts otherwise, life will give you lemons. When that happens, you've got two choices, friend: you can wear a sour face or make lemonade.