We All Live Here

by Jojo Moyes

Now I just try to live every day with an open heart and an open mind and see what happens.”

If you didn’t want me to write shit about you, you should have been nicer to me.

The key, I’ve found, to moving forward, is asking myself, during these moments: do I want to be right? Or do I want to be happy?

‘Keep going. No feeling is final.’ Something along those lines. And I always think of that, when things are a bit rough. No feeling is final. The shitty times don’t last forever. Even if they feel like it.”

“Because it’s only hurt people who hurt people.” She stares at him. “Celie, baby, you look around at people who are happy in themselves in their lives—they’re just busy living, having a good time. They don’t set out to be mean to other people. Their energy is going into other things. It doesn’t even occur to them to hurt someone else, or to try to make them feel small. In fact, they’re more likely to be building other people up.

One of Francesca’s golden rules was that if you were sunk in despondency you should move your body. Do something, darling. Go for a walk or empty a wardrobe or dig something in the garden. Whatever gets you out of your head and into your body.

There are periods of your life in which all that is really required is to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

This is life at this age, she muses, a million goodbyes, and you never know which are the final ones. You just absorb them, like little shocks, trusting with each one that you’ll be able to keep moving forward.

Life is long and complicated, Lila, and we all make mistakes. What matters is what we do beyond them.

You can hang on to anger and bitterness your whole life. But all you really do is prolong your own pain.