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There was no danger in it, no reproach, not when she was young. All girls are prone to dreaming. She will grow out of it, her parents say—but instead, Adeline feels herself growing in, holding tighter to the stubborn hope of something more.
Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives—or to find strength in a very long one.
I do not want to die as I’ve lived, which is no life at all.
attraction can look an awful lot like recognition in the wrong light.
Henry wonders, as they wait in the queue, if some people have natural style, or if they simply have the discipline to curate themselves every day.
Déjà vu. Déjà su. Déjà vecu.
But Muriel’s always been like strong perfume. Better in small doses. And at a distance.
I see someone lost, and hungry. The kind of person who feels like they’re wasting away in a world full of food, because they can’t decide what they want.”
“I would rather see clouds blot out the stars.”
“Small places make for small lives. And some people are fine with that. They like knowing where to put their feet. But if you only walk in other people’s steps, you cannot make your own way. You cannot leave a mark.”
“No,” she says, “I confess, I do not want a master, and I’ve yet to find an equal.”
Ten-minute time-out for platitudes.
Easy to stay on the path when the road is straight and the steps are numbered.
“I don’t know what they want from me,” he says. “I don’t know who they want me to be. They tell you to be yourself, but they don’t mean it, and I’m just tired…” His voice breaks. “I’m tired of falling short. Tired of being … it’s not that I’m alone. I don’t mind alone. But this—” His fingers knot in his shirtfront. “It hurts.”
there was a time when he thought it was carelessness on his part, before he realized it was some strange attempt at self-preservation, an intentional, albeit subconscious dawdling, a delay of the inevitable, uncomfortable necessity of showing up.
“Books feed hungry minds. Tips feed the cat?”
“Humans are so ill-equipped for peace.”
“Some nights, you love to see me suffer, so that I will yield. Others, you seem intent to spare me from it. I do wish you’d make up your mind.” A shadow sweeps across his face. “Trust me, my dear, you don’t.”
Addie swipes a tear from her cheek. “Did I ruin it?” “Ruin what?” he asks. “Us.” “Addie.” He grabs her shoulder. She turns, expecting to see his face streaked with anger, but it’s steady, smooth. “It was just a fight. It’s not the end of the world. It’s certainly not the end of us.”
“I know I can be cruel,” he says. “But nature can be crueler.”
“There are so many maddening humans around to swindle out of their souls.” A wry smile tugs at perfect lips. “I promise, Adeline, few are as maddening as you.” “Few?” she teases. “I’ll have to try harder.”
Luc’s brows draw up. “Don’t you trust me?” “I never have,” she says. “There’s no use starting now.”
“Even if everyone you met remembered,” Luc says, “I would still know you best.” She searches his face. “Do I know you?” He bows his head over hers. “You are the only one who does.”
“You are not capable of love because you cannot understand what it is to care for someone else more than yourself. If you loved me, you would have let me go by now.” Luc flicks his fingers. “What nonsense,” he says. “It is because I love you that I won’t. Love is hungry. Love is selfish.”
A storm, bottled into skin.
“What a hard lesson it must be for you,” she says. “That you can’t have everything you want.” “Want?” he sneers. “Want is for children. If this were want, I would be rid of you by now. I would have forgotten you centuries ago,” he says, a bitter loathing in his voice. “This is need. And need is painful but patient. Do you hear me, Adeline? I need you. As you need me. I love you, as you love me.”
Estele used to say she was stubborn as a stone. But even stones wear away to nothing. And she has not.
