Once upon a time I was young and beautiful. But that is the fairy tale, because it all passes in the blink of an eye.
From the very start, Sally has been lying to herself, telling herself she can handle anything, and she doesn’t want to lie anymore. One more lie and she’ll be truly lost. One more and she’ll never find her way back through the woods.
I wondered if all creatures were drawn to what was dangerous or if we merely wanted light at any cost and were willing to burn for our desires.
When a star reaches for you, it is difficult to look away.
Who but a fool would stay in one place and butt her head against the same window time and again?
But chains made out of blood and memory were a thousand times more difficult to sever than those made of steel, and the past could overtake a person if she wasn’t careful.
She had told me often enough to keep my mouth shut, and now I did exactly that. I abolished all language on the day of my father’s funeral.
My father was both a scientist and a magician, but he declared that it was in literature wherein we discovered our truest natures.
The craft was dangerous and unpredictable, and witches were difficult to control, for they had minds of their own and didn’t hold to keeping to the law.
Unable are the Loved to die, for Love is Immortality,” Jet said, quoting Emily Dickinson.
She had wanted to be a bird, but now she knew, as she looked out the window to see Lewis following, that even birds are chained to earth by their needs and desires.
This was the virtue of the dark: you were who you had always been, only no one could see you.
He knew even at an early age of seven, how dangerous it was for someone like him to have hope. He knows how to have no expectations. He can completely control not just what he wants, but what he needs.
It was believed that all creation came from thought, language, and mathematics.
When you have lost your mother you have lost the world.
In my memories I have set my life in Brooklyn between pieces of glass, separate from my current existence, and this has enabled me to move forward. The past cannot tie me in knots, nor can it cause me to drown. And yet what is stored in glass belongs to me still. Each piece is a part of me: the hummingbirds, the locked doors, Mr. Morris in the yard, the pear tree, the woman covered by bees, and you. Especially you.
He thought about how love could move you in ways you wouldn’t have imagined, one foot in front of the other, even when you thought you had nothing left inside.
You are the one who taught me that love was never what we expected it to be and that it was all we needed. For that, and for a thousand other things, I send my gratitude.
I believe in tragedy,” Shelby responds coldly. “Not miracles.
In the dark morning light, her gray eyes look completely green, as though they belonged to a cat that can see in the dark.