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“Wild Rover,” but from his repertoire of Irish rebel songs—“Come Out Ye Black and Tans” or “The Ballad of Ballinamore.”
He loved nothing more than a dimly lit bar on a sunny afternoon.
“Appearances count,” she would tell their kids. “If you want people to judge you based on the inside, don’t distract them from the outside.”
His eyes had followed her that morning as she’d walked to the elevators. He would always be grateful for that, at least,
Bear my joy,
“Your problem is you’re worried about being everyone’s mirror and that’s not your job.”
Christmas) Baby Please Come Home,” Darlene Love
It was such a burden, other people’s lives.
She was so much better at being alone; being alone came more naturally to her. She led a life of deliberate solitude, and if occasional loneliness crept in, she knew how to work her way out of that particular divot. Or even better, how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts.
However he parsed it, his future in New York could only be a diluted reflection of his before, a whiter shade of pale.
the beauty of rediscovering the starting line.
Nothing was a sure thing; every choice was just an educated guess, or a leap into a mysterious abyss.
“Don’t act like I’m the most pathetic person on earth,” Stephanie had said to Pilar. “Because I’m not, not by a long shot.” “I’m acting like you’re the most pathetic version of you. Because you are, times a million.
Here, if Matilda and Vinnie were in the same room, she would always pause, always give him the look, a look like she’d given him that day brimming with awe and revelation, a look that fixed his world and made him whole and filled him with such unbearable desire and hope that he was always the first to turn away because the look was almost too much, a virtual sun flooding his world with light.
