More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
It was not the feeling of completeness that I so needed, but the feeling of not being empty.
chopped one piece of wood every morning, knowing that it was not in sickness that his arms ached, but health.
This is love, she thought, isn’t it? When you notice someone’s absence and hate that absence more than anything? More, even, than you love his presence?
