Love demands everything, they say, but my love demands only this: that no matter what happens or how long it takes, you`ll keep faith in me, you`ll remember who we are, and you`ll never feel despair.
Bridget cried for the leavers and the left. For the people, like herself, grimly forsaking what precious gifts they would ever get.
I love her. I need her. I gave away everything I had for her. I just wanted her to know me.
I want to go where you're going. I'm not scared of dying. I want to stay together and come back together. You said that souls cohere. I want to stay with you.
You thought you had the choice to stay still or move forward, but your didn't. As long as your heart kept pumping an your blood kept blowing and your lungs kept filling, you didn't. The pang she felt for Tibby carried something like envy. You couldn't stand still for anything short of death, and God knew she had tried.
What happened to me by myself felt partly dreamed, partly imagined, definitely shifted and warped by my own fears and wants. But who knows? Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.
They were here all at once, but not together. Survival took self-absorption, and it made them strangers with nothing to do and no way to relate. Emergencies gave you a shape and a plot to take part in, while death was no story at all. It left you nothing.
What made you feel that stomach-churning agony for one person and not another? If Bridget were God, she would have made it against the law for you to feel that way about someone without them having to feel it for you right back.
Those were the people who made her something, and without them she was different. She'd held on to them and to that old self tenaciously, though. She clung to it, celebrated it, worshipped it even, instead of constructing a new grown-up life for herself. For years she'd been eating the cold crumbs left over from a great feast, living on them as though they could last her forever.
She wondered again about her inclination to wish for things that made her so deeply unhappy.
You don't have time, Len. That is the most bitter and the most beautiful pieve of advice I can offer. If you don't have what you want now, you don't have what you want. -pg276
Because she was raw and uncertain, and she liked to keep all the messy parts of herself to herself. ... As much as Lena liked to hide the mess and display the finished product, by this point she was all mess and no product.
He tricked himself into thinking that she would look into his eyes and remember, that love would conquer all.
Hey," he said. "It's someday." He said the last word in Greek.
She remembered me.' This was his worst weakness, his most toxic drug.
Something about giving in without a fight felt wrong.
She cared about him too much, and he was a dangerous person to love. He wouldn't love her back.
She had never had a boy talk to her like that. There was no cover of bullshit, no flirtation, no added charm, but his look was searing. He was different from anyone she had known.
Do you have any idea how much I've loved you?
Exactly! We run or we lose ourselves in something, somebody, anything to try and ease our pain.
How is it that a person could be so relieved and so disappointed, both at the same time.
But like everything else, love changed.
He'd pushed her. He'd scared her. He'd besieged her. He'd vowed he wouldn't, and he did.
I killed her once and died for her many times
Bridget's anger evaporated and the sadness came back. The anger was easier. She owned and contolled it, whereas the sadness owned her.
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