More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Sometimes he had a hard time faking normalcy when he was distracted, when he was so hopelessly sad and worried.
Please don’t leave me alone, haunt me. He’d said it in English, “haunt me,” because there were no words in Spanish for that verb, not embrujar, not aparecer, it was haunt. She had laughed it off. He was supposed to die first—it was the most logical thing. It was ridiculous he was even still alive.
Adrianne White liked this
“Are all flowers dead girls?”
Lmao
We have children so that we can continue on, they are our immortality.
Gross
He spent the night on the other side of my bedroom door, begging forgiveness. That’s what any violent man does, I told him—beg forgiveness.
To her, love was impure. I, on the other hand, have had so little love that it seems to me like a delicate jewel, and I’m terrified of losing it. My fear is not just that I’ll misplace it, like an earring on a night of sex or sweaty dancing, it’s that it will evaporate and vanish like alcohol.
He’s right—we all know what happens if you steal something from faery. True, this is no fairyland, but there’s no reason the rules would be different. The rules almost never are. The forms can vary, but not the rules.
“Go on, my love. Leave me. I can’t go, but you can, you can escape me, and them. There is nothing, Rosario, it’s just fields of death and madness, there’s nothing, and I am the doorway to that nothing and I’m not going to be able to close it. There’s nothing to find, nothing to understand.”
“If you won’t leave me, don’t leave me alone. Not even if you die. Follow me as a ghost, haunt me.”
I was coming to understand the power of a secret. You walk among others but are not one of them.
I feel I walk along passages of colors no one else knows; I feel like the others are lit by a weak little bulb, while I am lit by a blinding light. It’s strange I would think of light, because it was always explained to me that we are for the darkness.
The pain is to lose and lose and lose.
I didn’t really like kids, just my own son, and not even him all the time.
It was soothing to think of illness as an answer and disorder as an explanation. But the truth had a way of rising to the surface, of scratching at the skin, of kicking you in the back of the neck.
The police, both mounted and on foot, broke up the gathering and chased people down streets and avenues. Later, Gaspar would learn they arrested over two hundred people. There would be a full day of waiting and of terrified parents and families, the police silent, the governor spouting nonsense on TV. For now, they had to run.
Hey, this happened last week in the U.S
How many times had he thought, “I want to be just like him”? The way he’d told Gaspar while they rode in the car, you have to always be respectful with girls, even if you’re not interested in them. The way, after he got mad about something and raised his voice and shouted, he always gave in to a joke and laughed and shook his head. The twins were going to forget him, they would miss out: the permission to do their homework on the patio, the races down the dirt road, the grilled fish at the beach, the What you wrote is really good, that teacher must be kind of dumb, she doesn’t have to
...more
sobbing
I don’t know how to let go of the dead.
“Alone with our madness and favorite flower.” How appropriate. Solos con nuestra locura y nuestra flor favorita.
“He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.” Aquel cuyo rostro no de luz nunca se convertirá en una estrella.
