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Kindle Notes & Highlights
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. —Albert Camus
The last months of Bree’s life were, absurdly, full of hope. Hope like a burst of yellow; the vivid dash of goldenrod, daffodils, yarrow; a sudden splash of spring color in the monochrome of the wintery cancer ward.
she’d seen spring and summer froth and flourish
November spat with ice storms and arctic temperatures.
Grief was like weather: it had seasons and moods, and it could always take a turn for the worse.
Jodie felt a spiral of nerves shoot through her. But not entirely bad nerves. Sparkly, fizzy nerves.
The notes were thoughtful and wistful, shimmering with a whimsical and fanciful yearning.
How did he make the notes sound like questions? They swirled in bittersweet pleading refrains, beseeching, entreating, beguiling.
She was one of the world’s shiny people. The kind you remember.”
The trees, which had twisty trunks of swirly silver-brown, stretched out, meeting the trees across the way. They were veiled and laced with snow, their fingertips spindly, touching overhead. Shreds of fog tangled in their limbs. They were like a line of ghostly bridesmaids.
