You'll turn out ordinary if you're not careful.
Wish for what you want, work for what you need. -Carmen's grandmother
I’m sorry you asked me out, otherwise maybe I could have liked you.
So far, she’d been her usual lame self: solitary and routine-loving, carefully avoiding any path that might lead to spontaneous human interaction. Lena Kaligaris
She wanted him to notice her so much.
At the worst possible moment, the most painful, darkest moment when you can't take it anymore and you are afraid, that is when a feeling of peace and comfort will come over you, and it's like nothing you've ever felt.
I'm dying with you before I'm living without you.
He could lose himself in her forever, he thought.
I did love her. I've loved her from the first time I saw her.
She'd loved him as much as he'd let her. More than he'd let her.
She must have sensed she never really had him. That was a sadness of hers, he knew.
Sometimes he felt sure that the key to happiness was a poor memory.
I sometimes think the stronger you feel about someone, the harder it is to picture their face when you are away from them.
Don't ask me any questions right now. I'm grumpy and I'll probablly make fun of you. -Effie Kaligaris
The most haunting thing was not that he didn't love her anymore. She could have accepted that eventually. The most haunting thing was that he did. He loved her from afar. He loved her in a way that was preserved in time, that couldn't be sullied. And she tended it in her careful, curatorial way.
Time is what keeps things from happening all at once.
It's always nervewracking to put yourself out there. But it's the root of joy.
Age is not so much a feature of your character, as the spot where you stand for a pretty fleeting time on the arc of your life.
I think pants have unique qualities, especially in a woman’s life. Whatever bodily insecurities we have, we seem to take out on our pants.
There are going to be moments of deep, deep doubts, and you have to have faith that your initial idea was good and just muddle through.
Starting is hard so I really need to give myself permission to do a bad job. I always give myself leave to write total nonsense for as long as I need to release the pressure, because it's really hard to start if you feel like that first sentence you write has to actually mean something.
Maybe happiness was just a matter of the little upticks- the traffic signal that said "Walk" the second you go there- and downticks- the itch tag at the back of your collar- that happened to every person in the course of the day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day.
The weather turned. Her skin seemed to grow a million extra pores, and all of them opened to take in the warmth and tenderness of the air. The sun on her face made her want to cry. Into all those millions of open pores came the sunshine, and other feelings as well. In and out. She was porous.
What if people knew they were recycled? Would that change anything?
Someday when you're twenty, maybe, I'll see you again. You'll be this hot soccer star at some great school, with a million guys more interesting than I am chasing you down. And you know what? I'll see you and I'll pray you want me still.
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