Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.
He could lose himself in her forever, he thought.
I’m dying with you before I’m living without you.
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.
As a writer, you live in such isolation. It’s hard to imagine your book has a life beyond you.
She was supposed to be putting her life together right now, and all she could seem to do was throw grenades at it.
This body is breaking down, but I am not.
Knowing where she was in the world, even if he never touched her, gave him a deep satisfaction, and he half despised himself for being satisfied with so little.
She must have sensed she never really had him. That was a sadness of hers, he knew.
Every life I start with her, my original sin. I know myself through her.
Women always seemed to bring the size they wished they were to the fitting room, rather than the size that would actually fit.
All my life, everybody has seen me a certain way. What do you see?
I knew her hair and her coloring and her shapes would be different next time, but the way she wore her body would keep on.
What if people knew they were recycled? Would that change anything?
Relief is a short-lived emotion, passive and thin. The agony of doubt disappears, leaving little memory of how it really felt. Life aligns behind the new truth.
The happiness at getting what you want is not usually commensurate with the worry leading up to it.
You are not going to die, I know I said I’d let you, but I can’t.
What Daniel taketh away, Daniel giveth.
Marnie loved her better and more honestly than anyone else in the world, with the possible exception of her mother, who loved her intensely if not honestly.