It’s not pride I’m feeling. It’s another sin. Worse than all the other ones, which are immediate, violent, and hot. This one sits inside you quietly and eats you from the inside out like the trichina worms the pigs get. It’s the Eighth Deadly Sin. The one God left out. Hope.
I love you, too... I won’t ever leave you again. I promise. I kept that promise. For love him I did. For nearly two years I spent almost every waking hour with him. Until he was taken from me. But I never left him. And I never will.
Life, Rose well knew, could throw some hard punches at you, but nothing hurt as much as losing a child, or seeing one of your children hurt and suffering. Becoming a parent changed you forever, as nothing else could. Not good or bad fortune. Not friendships. Not even a man or a woman.
Revolutions come about when small things happen to small people.
How it grieves me to think that the world always wins... but it goes on, this world, stupid and brutal. But I do not. I do not.
It’s all about the pain, isn’t it?
Lots of things are true. Doesn’t mean you have to go around saying them.
Break a promise to the dead and they’ll haunt you, Ada says. Keep the promise and they’ll haunt you just the same.
Because nothing is more dangerous than hope.
I take a seat high above the BQE, stare at Manhatten for a bit, and then I play. For hours. I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.
Meet me where the sky touches the sea. Wait for me where the world begins.
He who cannot endure the bad will not live to see the good.
Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?
We’re not punished for our sins, lad. We’re punished by them.
The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.
When you can write music that endures, bravo. Until then, keep quiet and study the work of those who can.
There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could’ve been and never was.
But words are more powerful than anything.
Things are NEVER what they seem, Pa, I thought. I used to think they were, but I was wrong or stupid or blind or something. Old folks are forever complaining about their failing eyesight, but I think your vision gets better as you get older. Mine surely was.
There were times when I lifted my face to the sky, stretched my arms wide to the winter night, and laughed out loud, so happy was I. The memory of it makes me laugh now, but not from happiness. Be careful what you show the world. You never know when the wolf is watching.