I think love is a concept, and each person has an individual word for them. My word is Bree.
Loving another person always means opening yourself up for hurt.
You’re my everything, Bree.
He smiled back and put his lips against mine, mouthing, “I love you, too,” against my mouth, as if he was breathing love into my body.
I don’t know, I’m kinda busy. I’ve got a pity party scheduled for eight o’clock followed by wallowing at nine.
Bad things don’t happen to people because they deserve for them to happen. It just doesn’t work that way. It’s just... life.
I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish you could read my mind so that you would know how much I want you, no one else. There could be three hundred men after me right now, and it wouldn’t matter. Because none of them are you, Archer Hale. None of them are the man I love.
I realized that people’s reactions had more to do with them, more to do with who they were, than anything about me.
And sometimes, that’s all it takes–one person who’s willing to listen to your heart, to the sound no one else has ever tried to hear.
I want to be able to love you, more than I fear losing you, and I don’t know how.
I’m here for you. I’m here because of you. I’m here because you saw me, not just with your eyes, but with your heart.
And try to believe that maybe more light shines out of those who have the most cracks.
It suddenly occurred to me that Archer Hale had taught himself an entire language, but hadn’t had a single person to talk to. Until me.
Chiron’s wound symbolizes the transformative power of suffering–how personal pain, both physical and emotional, can become the source of great moral and spiritual strength.
There’s nothing any of us can do about the possibility of loss.
I try to believe that something beautiful can result from something ugly, and that there will come a time when I’ll get to see what that is.
I heard again and again that my and Archer’s story made people want to be better, to reach out to those no one else saw, to be friends to the friendless, to look at others more closely, and recognize pain when they came across it, and then to do something about it if they were able.
All the world’s a circus. Sometimes you choose your act and sometimes it’s assigned to you.
What I know, is that you walked through my gate that day and I lost my heart. But not because it could have been any girl–because it was you. I lost my heart to you. And, Bree, in case you’re wondering, I don’t ever want it back.
What’s on your happy list?