Love Practically (The Penn-Leiths of Thistle Muir, #1)

by Nichole Van

After all, contentment was not measured by experiences lived, but by one’s attitude toward those experiences.

She was a pile of kerosene-soaked rags, and he had just supplied the torch.

Joy and grief are two sides of the same coin. Ye cannae have one without the other. It’s foolishness in the extreme tae be so consumed by the possibility of loss that ye miss the joy of love entirely. Sorrow means the heart loved true.”

This was the worst part of loss, Leah thought. The endless ambush of emotion. The sense that the worst had passed and then bam! Something unexpected—a sound, a smell, an image—would bring grief crashing down again.

“Death is an amputation.” He fixed her with haunted eyes. “A violent severing of a vital part of ye. It throbs like a phantom limb, pulsing with a pain that nothing can soothe.”