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that the moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep.
What had she thought, that love was a toy, something easy and sweet, just to play with? Real love was dangerous, it got you from inside and held on tight, and if you didn’t let go fast enough you might be willing to do anything for its sake.
Goodness, in their opinion, was not a virtue but merely spinelessness and fear disguised as humility.
The sisters threw their arms around each other; they felt as though fate was picking them up, rattling them around, then releasing them into completely alternate futures.
sometimes the right thing felt all wrong until it was over and done with.
Sometimes, running away means you’re headed in the exact right direction.
Her own garden is simple and halfhearted, which is just the way she likes it.
What if her beauty fades as soon as she passes eighteen, the way it does with some girls, who have no idea that they’ve peaked until it’s all over and they glance in the mirror to discover they no longer recognize themselves.
Trouble is just like love, after all; it comes in unannounced and takes over before you’ve had a chance to reconsider, or even to think.
When it’s this warm in June, when the sky is this inky and thick, a knock on the screen door doesn’t even echo. It falls into your dreams, like a stone into a stream, so that you wake suddenly, heart beating too fast, pulse going crazy, drowning inside your own panic.
It’s amazing the places that love will carry you. It’s astounding to discover just how far you’re willing to go.
On some nights it’s best to stop thinking about the past, and all that’s been won and lost.
On nights like this, just getting into bed, crawling between the clean white sh...
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For weeks people will find themselves drawn to the sidewalk in front of Sally Owens’s house, pulled out of their own kitchens and dining rooms by the scent of lilacs, reminded of desire and real love and a thousand other things they’d long ago forgotten, and sometimes now wish they’d forgotten still.
a place with no beginning and no end, but with plenty of gossips.
