My Friends

by Fredrik Backman

rich people love reminding each other about how incredibly rich they are, so rich that they can buy things from God.

“Being human is to grieve, constantly.” Because what he really wants to know is: “How the hell do all the rest of you cope?”

all he dreamed about was not being recognized in the street, and not being adult, and about lying on a pier with his best friends and drinking sun-warmed sodas and reading superhero comics. About being no one at all alongside his very best no ones.

in grief we are reminded that we’re human beings. In life we might be enemies, but when faced with death, we see the truth: we are one species, all we have is each other, and where you go, I shall follow.

You don’t wish for happiness when you have lost the love of your life, because you can’t even imagine ever feeling happy again. All you wish for is peace, calm, a long night’s sleep. You dream of nothing but being able to forgive time for making us old.

a library. You don’t have to put up with reality there. It’s as if thousands of strangers have given away their imaginary friends, they’re sitting on the shelves and calling to you as you walk past.