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Perhaps this is what the Grand Tour is meant to do—show me the way other people live, in lives that are not like my own. It’s a strange feeling, realizing that other people you don’t know have their own full lives that don’t touch yours.
So if things can’t be the same between us, can they at least not be terrible? You’re not permitted to be strange and uncomfortable around me now.”
It is impossible to explain how you can love someone so much that it’s difficult to be around him. And with Percy sitting there, half in shadow, his hair loose and his long legs and those eyes I could have lived and died in, it feels like there’s a space inside me that is so bright it burns.
God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends.
“Ladies haven’t the luxury of being squeamish about blood,” she replies, and Percy and I go fantastically red in unison.
Love may be a grand thing, but goddamn if it doesn’t take up more than its fair share of space inside a man.
think you are the most beautiful creature on God’s green earth and I would very much like to find a hidden corner of this opera house and engage in some behavior that could only be termed sinful.
