She is young enough to carry fear with her without letting it into her heart. Without being scared.
This is a significant moment, he thinks, hearing the words in his head in his mother’s voice. A moment with meaning. A moment that changes the moments that follow.
The wind howls after him as he leaves in fear of what is to come, but a mortal cannot understand the wishes of the wind no matter how loud it cries and so these final warnings go unheeded.
He thought he would have figured out what he believes before it all came to an end but he has not.
Herr Thiessen is always pleased when the circus arrives in his native Germany, but this time he is particularly delighted that it has arrived quite near Munich, so there is no need for him to secure rooms in another city.
Go away,” his sister says. “I’m going to the circus, if you would care to join me,” Bailey says, his voice dull. He already knows what her answer will be. “No,” she says, as predictable as the dinnertime silence. “How childish,” she adds, shooting him a disdainful glare. Bailey leaves without another word, letting the wind slam the front door behind him. The.
He can’t even think how to describe it. It’s like an art museum and an overflowing library were relocated into a subway system.
We are going to find each other and we are going to figure this out together. You may be by yourself but you are not alone.
We like to hit all of the senses,” Lainie says. “Some more than others,” Tara adds. “True,” her sister agrees. “Scent is often underestimated, when it can be the most evocative.
Like I’m losing my mind, but in a slow, achingly beautiful sort of way.
It is a modest flat with basic furnishings, so similar to his former rooms that he finds it difficult to feel anything resembling homesickness, save for the library, though he still possesses an impressive number of books.
You could have been a ballerina,” Mme. Padva remarks to Celia. “You are quite good on your feet.” “I am good off my feet as well,” Celia says, and Mr. Barris nearly knocks over his own glass while Mme. Padva cackles.
You want a place to be like it was in the book but it’s not a place in a book it’s just words.
But he doesn’t open the box anymore. It sits, firmly closed, in the tree. He thinks maybe he should throw it away, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Perhaps he will leave it in the tree and let the bark grow over it, sealing it inside.
Everyone spends nights on the floor of their closet during grad school.
While earlier Marco had determined her to be little more than mildly intriguing and fairly pretty, this revelation is something more.
His religion is buried in the silence of freshly fallen snow, in a carefully crafted cocktail, in between the pages of a book somewhere after the beginning but before the ending.
It looks a breath away from being a crumbling ruin. Held together by spinning planets and ticking clocks and wishful thinking and string.
Do me a favor and marry someone who will take decent care of the sheep.
For a moment he can feel, sharply and strongly, within the air in his lungs, precisely what it is to lose and find and lose again, over and over and over.