I want my life to be mystifying,” she declared, although she didn’t know what she meant.
She despised the sadness that hung inside her like old lace.
Justin is twenty-four years old: the world will never be more suited to him than it is now, he will never feel more embraced by life or have greater faith in his right to exist. The earth and the oxygen, the cities and lights, the nights and the beaches seem created for him and for those like him.
She is not a musical girl nor, intrinsically, a joyful girl; but the music of the four Swedes shook something awake inside her, and when she heard it she felt airborne and strong.
She doesn’t understand that doors, walls, fences, ceilings – they’re helpless to keep out what determinedly desires to get in.
More than this, I believe that the only lastingly important form of writing is writing for children. It is writing that is carried in the reader’s heart for a lifetime; it is writing that speaks to the future.
Love is like moonlight or thunder, or rain on a tin roof in the middle of the night; it is one of those things in life that is truly worth knowing.
You’re not supposed to have iron bars around you – no one is supposed to have that. You’re supposed to fall down hills and get lonely, and find your own food and get wet when it rains. That’s what happens when you’re alive.
A small town has as many eyes as a fly.
My life was pouring out my feet and seeping through cracks in the floor; yet still I knelt and did not move, for fear she’d let go my hands. Let me stay, I wanted to beg: Please don’t make me go.
Strange how love coexists with hate, how they render eachother mute, how the swilling of them together makes a new and softer, sympathetic thing.
I thought about how stupid it is, that all of us are born destined to desire somebody else, though desire brings with it such disappointment and pain. Humankind’s history must be scored bloody with heartbreak. This hankering for affection is a blight upon us.
Words on the page are never prisoners of the page.
It is scary, sometimes, Tomas admitted. But the scary bits are what make you brave.
Yeah, reflections! The same, but different. Like twins – like blood brothers! And when you need something bad done, like punishment or revenge, you’ll just ask me, and I will do it -.