Living in a place like this, she must have learned how to see all the monsters that can hide a person.
Cure" is one of the most precious words in the English language. It's a short word. A clean and simple word. But it isn't so easy a thing as it sounds. There are questions like: How will this affect us in ten years? In twenty? What will it do to our children? Our children's children?
Give me time" "For you, always.
There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.
There are so many of us, so many girls. The world wants us for our wombs or our bodies, or it doesn't want us at all.
I've loved you since the day I stole the atlas for you," Gabriel says, because he thinks I'm asleep.
To die trying would be better than to die without purpose.
I think he's beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.
Even things that aren't broken can be fixed.
So how long do you think it’ll be?” he says. “Before the next hurricane comes along to take you home.” “Can I tell you my biggest fear?” I say. “Yes. Tell me.” “That it will be a very windless four years.
Did you tell freedom hello for me?
Tell freedom I said hello.
The only characters I ever don't like are ones that leave no impression on me. And I don't write characters that leave no impression on me.
There's a hazy smile on her lips that won't go away, and her hair is a mess. It's like a brushfire filled with casualties.
It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.
I lost everyone I loved," I tell him. I wait for him to look at me, and then I add, "The day I met you.
Don't forget how you got here. Don't Forget.
Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.
The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.
It was a terrible decision, and I confess I'd make it again.
I want to make the world into something better so that he can be okay.
He says one word, nodding into the daylight. "Look." It's an astounding word. It's a gift.
He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.
I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.
It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says; "We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls." "There are always walls." I say.
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