It took me a lifetime to realizethings don't get lost if they don't have value- you don't miss what you don't care about.
Lately, I have been having nightmares, where I'm cut into so many pieces that there isn't enough of me to be put back together.
A girl who is thirteen-which is hard, and difficult, and beautiful, and painful, and exhilarating.
I became a firefighter because I wanted to save people. But I should have been more specific. I should have named names.
That's the strange thing about being a mother: until you have a baby, you don't even realize how much you were missing one
His hand is cool on my cheek as he paints a tear beneath my left eye, dark blue and swollen with sorrow.
Violence up close has a smell. Like copper blood and charcoal burning.
When feeling came back, in a storm of color and force and sensation, the most you could do was hold on to the person beside you and hope you could weather it. Alex closed her eyes and expected the worst-but it wasn't a bad thing; it was just a different thing. A messier one, more complicated one. She hesitated, and then she kissed Patrick back, willing to concede that you might have to lose control before you could find what you'd been missing.
No matter how much you consumed, you would not have your fill.
Crazy girls did this, girls who walked like zombies through YA novels. But. Trixie felt the sting of the skin as it split, the sweet welling rise of blood. It hurt, though not as much as everything else idd.
I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with the scent of him.
This is what it always comes down to, I realized. There are the ones who believe, and the ones who don't, and caught in the space between them are guns.
Whether or not belive in Fate comes down to one thing: who you blame when something goes wrong. Do you think it's your fault - that if you'd tried better, worked harder, it wouldn't have happened? Or do you just chalk it up to circumstance? I know poeple who'll hear about the people who died, and will say that it was God's will. I know people who'll say it was bad luck. And then there's my personal favorite: They were just in the wrong place at hte wrong time. Then again, you could say the same thing about me, couldn't you?
for 100,000 (dollars), you [can] flatten a house with a wrecking ball. Imagine how much less it [takes] to destroy something than it [does] to build it in the first place.
Love [is] supposed to move mountains, to make the world go round, to be all you need, but it [falls] apart at the deatils. It [can't] save a single person.
Something still exists as long as there's someone around to remember it.
If God wanted us to act on instinct, we wouldn't have the power of reason.
If it had been easy for Romeo to get to Juliet, nobody would have cared. Same goes for Cyrano and Don Quixote and Gatsby and their respective paramours. What captures the imagination is watching men throw themselves at a brick wall over and over again, and wondering if this is the time that they won't be able to get back up.
The Inuit say that the stars are holes in heaven. And every time we see the people we loved shining through, we know they're happy.
Love was that way. You could not render it in black or white. It always came down to the strange, blended shades of grey.
He insisted that stars were people so well loved, they were traced in constellations, to live forever
No," he said calmly, filled with purpose. he took her arms lightly in his hands and shook her. "I am not giving you up." Emily looked at him, and for just a moment he could read her thoughts. Melanie use to say they were like twins, with their own secret, silent language. in that instant, Chris felt her fear and her resignation, and the knotty pain of coming up against a brick wall again and again. She glanced away, and he could breathe again. "The thing is, Chris" Emily said, "it's not your choice.
The problem with you is that you always see a glass of milk half empty instead of half filled.
I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way.
This was something she would keep hidden within herself, maybe in place of the knot of pain and anger she had been carrying under her breastbone...a security blanket, an ace up her sleeve. She might never use it, but she would always feel its presence like a swelling secret stone, and that way when she let go of the rage, she would not feel nearly as empty.
"Everyone still deserves to have their say."
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