Elizabeth laughed. “No way. You’ll have to talk to Dad about this yourself, but I’ll tell you this, honey, it’s dangerous to quit something because you think you’re not good enough. That can be an ugly pattern that repeats itself throughout your life. Believe me, I know.
Even if I could forgive him, how would I forget?
I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.
He saw her beauty, even in the half-light, she could tell, but he looked past it. Either that, or he was smart enough to see that she wanted to offer more to the world than a pretty face.
The stairs unfold from the ceiling like a gentleman extending his hand.
One kiss can change a girl’s world.
But you knew, or should know, that it was a wild thing you lived with, that a collar and leash and a bowl of food might tame the actions of the beast, but couldn’t change its essential nature.
For as long as I can remember, books have been my safe place.
Like geese,” she whispered into the tiny, shell-pink ear, “their babies imprint on the mama in the first sighting and never forget.
Vianne knelt down beside Sarah, she felt for a pulse and found none. The silence turned sour, thick; all Vianne could think about was the sound of this child’s laughter and how empty the world would be without it.
We are gonna be Harry and Hermione. Friends forever.
We have always been the witnesses of each other’s lives. Isn’t that what family is? Even broken and betrayed and bleeding, we are connected.
They were at war. Time was the one luxury no one had anymore. Tomorrow felt as ephemeral as a kiss in the dark. She.
She ate life with unapologetic enthusiasm and took as many helpings as she wanted.
It was like stepping barefoot on a sharp bit of broken glass. She pulled the glass out and ran on, but the pain remained.
She was sure he saw some spatter of blood or dirt somewhere on her, at her temple or on the back of her hand. There was an almost imperceptible pause; she knew he was waiting for her to look at him, to communicate what had happened, but she just sat there. If she opened her mouth she might start screaming. Or if she looked at him she might cry, might demand to know how it was that children could be shot in the dark for nothing.
I am like some wounded animal in a darkened lair, nursing the thorn in my paw, unable to find anyone to take it out.
They were always doing that to each other, misinterpreting, imagining the worst. No wonder every conversation bruised one or the other.
Take it from me, Father. Life is over quickly, and you only regret what you didn’t do.
I smile at them, my two boys who should have broken me, but somehow saved me, each in his own way. Because of them, I know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain.