Intimacy doesn’t have all that much to do with backseats of cars. Real intimacy is brushing your teeth together.
It is a lie that people who love each other must know everything about each other. Love must occasionally allow for a gap.
In a way, whoever you know in a certain place defines that place for you.
The casualities seemed to go on and on. Just when I thought I was done losing her, I would find yet another way to love her all over again.
Oh, all stories are the same, aren’t they? Men and women fall in love or out of love. People are born; people die. It al ends happily or it all ends sadly, and the difference matters only to the people involved.
Sometimes things seem so unbearable in the middle of the night, don’t they? In the middle of the night, we’re all such children.
But in my defense, I knew enough about her to know I wanted to know everything else; I knew as much about her as she wanted me to know; I knew as much about her as anyone ever knows about anyone. And isn’t love just curiosity at the beginning anyway?
It was funny how dad was more honest in a book that anyone in the world could pick up and read than he could be talking to me. Or maybe it was sad. One or the other. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
And I was crying for gravity. It had sent me down the stairs, and I’d thought that meant something, but maybe it was just the direction that all things tend to flow.
He kissed me, though not in a sexy way. Gentle. Tender.
That Woman is in love with her own grief.
He told me that love was the only thing that really mattered in the world.
My beautiful Win. I wanted to kiss him on every last broken place, but his mother and my lawyer were there. So, instead I started to cry.
Eye contact made people think you were being truthful even if you weren’t.
Violence should not always beget more violence.
I’m allergic to sad memories. It’s the worst.
It was such a sweet, sad song with such sweet, sad lyrics. Old-fashioned a little, but also timeless.
The theme of the dance was “Great Romances,” or some such nonsense. There were projections of supposedly great couples from the past on the walls of the gym. Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Hermione and Ron, Bonnie and Clyde, etc.
But then again maybe “I will” is nicer. It has a future in it.
Before I liked to write, I liked to type. I remember visiting my grandmother Adele in Ponce Inlet, Florida, when I was three years old, and she had an IBM electric typewriter.