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Are the stories we tell ourselves true or based on what we dream them to be?
Her entire life she had been running from terrifying shadows she could no longer see—and in escape she ran straight into life. In the years since, she had discovered the sacrament of life did not demand memory. Like a leaf that drank from the morning dew, you didn’t question the morning sunrise or the sweet taste on your mouth. You just drank.
America was an iceberg shattered into a billion fragments, and on each stood a person, rotating like an ice floe in a storm.
Every day I don’t kill the woman, I admire her more.
No one ever told you what to do when love went away. It was always about capturing love, and keeping love. Not about watching it walk out the door to die alone rather than in your arms.
“Hope springs eternal. Just remember: so does evil. Sometimes they are impossible to tell apart.”
Everyone needs faith: faith that even though the world is full of evil, a suitor will come and kiss us awake; faith that the girl will escape the tower, the big bad wolf will die, and even those poisoned by malevolence can be reborn, as innocent as purity itself.
Go. Go explore life, revel in it, roll in it and come up happy.
A man is not dead until he is forgotten.
It was funny how when it was time for tomorrow, some people stayed and some people left.
“Stop thinking that you have to know everything to understand it.”
That was the mystery. Now that she was safe, why did she still want to leave?
“You can’t make someone remember any more than you can make them believe.”
You’re wrestling with something now.” She hesitated. She wasn’t accustomed to talking about herself. “I don’t know if it is the past or the future,” she said. “Sometimes they’re the same.”
“Are you trying to talk your way into my bed?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “No.” His voice sounded warm. “I’m trying to talk my way into your heart.”
“I’m afraid,” she confessed, her voice quiet. “Of what?” “That if the box is opened I might want and want and never be filled.” She took a breath. “That you will get tired of filling it.”
The best kind of strength, says my therapist, is the one inside you.
She says we are all part of a secret club. Someday, she said, we will take over the earth. It will be people like us that save the world, she said: those who have walked the side of sorrow and seen the dawn.
This is something I know: no matter how far you have run, no matter how long you have been lost, it is never too
late to be found.
those who are loved are never lost.
