Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

“You act like death is the worst thing.” “Isn’t it?” Ambrose could think of nothing worse than losing his friends. “I don’t think so. Death is easy. Living is the hard part.

Books allow you to be whoever you want to be, to escape yourself for a while.

“True beauty, the kind that doesn’t fade or wash off, takes time. It takes pressure. It takes incredible endurance. It is the slow drip that makes the stalactite, the shaking of the Earth that creates mountains, the constant pounding of the waves that breaks up the rocks and smooths the rough edges. And from the violence, the furor, the raging of the winds, the roaring of the waters, something better emerges, something that would otherwise never exist. “And so we endure. We have faith that there is purpose. We hope for things we can’t see. We believe that there are lessons in loss, power in love, and that we have within us the potential for a beauty so magnificent that our bodies can’t contain it.”