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“There’s this line in it that talks about keeping a little fire burning inside, ‘however small, however hidden.’” “Yes,” I said softly. “I think about that line sometimes. I think about how that little fire is hope. I think about how you have to keep it burning to get you through the hard times, the times that seem so painful you don’t want to continue on.”
My love for her was fear and pain, and joy and laughter. It was spring flowers and winter frost. How the hell could love feel so damn crowded?
