It’s definitely worth something,” I said. “A lot. We still don’t know each other, right? And I’ll admit – I thought it might be best if we kept it all to the page, passed that notebook back and forth until we were ninety. But clearly that wasn’t meant to be. And who am I to blow against the wind?
My family lives in that building now, along with Grandpa in the fourth-floor “penthouse” apartment, as he calls the converted space that was once an attic studio.
Lily was mittens and hot chocolate and snow angels that lifted from the ground and danced in the air. She said she loved winter, and I wondered if there was any season she didn’t love. I worked hard to accept her enthusiasm as genuine. My mental furnace was built for immolation, not warmth. I didn’t understand how she could be so happy. But such was the love I had fallen into that I decided not to question it, and to live within it.
Their first date was at the symphony. How mean can a guy be who likes Mozart? I hope, at least.
I’d never thought a single sentence could turn me off so decisively from both making love and playing the piano, but there it was.
Love teaches you that fitting is overrated; what you need to do is change the shape of your life to make the connection.
What do you call Santa’s little helpers? Subordinate Clauses!
He can sometimes act a bit loner-ish, but I think that’s not because he’s some serial killer waiting to happen; he’s just his own best company sometimes. And he’s comfortable with that. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that.
I wasn’t going to be tempted to play the field or sow my oats; for me, Lily was the field, and she could have all of my oats. She didn’t fit perfectly into my new life, but.
To be the right person at the right time for someone else is the highest service we can perform,” Sir Ian said with a bow.
I had a hard time picturing my father in high school. My father never gave any indication that he’d once been young. Gem, on the other hand, wore all of the ages she’d ever been at the same time. I could trust that.
Kent State by Deborah Wiles.
Death Cab for Cutie’s “Transatlanticism.
I’m going to miss you, too,” she said. And then she slipped out of the moment, slipped out of the us, by adding, “I’m going to miss everyone.
As we walked into the store, we saw that we were catching the evening’s activity in medias res.
Personally, I felt yoga was something to retreat from, not toward, so the mental image involved me sitting cross-legged with an open book in my lap while everyone else did the Spread-Eagle Ostrich.
You are an impossible sausage of adorable,” she pronounced.
I had always felt that mittens were a few steps back on the evolutionary scale – why, I wondered, would we want to make ourselves into a less agile version of a lobster?
Why does he have a leash?” I asked. “A leash?” Julia looked confused. “A lead,” Mark said. “That’s what they call a leash here.
We’re to write our letters to Father Christmas.” “To be burned up in the chimney?” Gem asked. “One of my favorite British traditions.