Love Unsaid Quotes

“Her own awareness had risen like the dawn on her back.Like a leaden sunrise veiled in a swirl of storm clouds. It was no longer enough to have answers for Shiva's sake. Indeed, it had ceased to be about mere vengeance the moment Khalid's lips touched hers in the alley by the souk. She had wanted there to be a reason for this madness, needed there to be a reason, so that she could be with him. So that she could be by his side, make him smile as she laughed, weave tales by lamplight, and share secrets in the dark.So that she could fall asleep in his arms and awaken to a brilliant tomorrow.
But it was too late. He was the Mehrdad of her nightmares. She had opened the door. She had seen the bodies hanging from the walls, without explanation. Without justification.
And without one, Shahrzad knew what must be done. Khalid had to answer for such vile deeds. Such rampant death.
Even if he was her air.
Even if she loved him beyond words.”
― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“I heard the door at the far end of the hallway swing open. Then I heard familiar footsteps approaching. After going to three different schools for seven years, I knew it was Mark.

“Hi, Mark,” I said.

“Hey, pal. I thought I’d find you here,” Mark said.

I sighed wearily.

“Did you find her?” Mark asked tentatively.

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell her how you feel?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“What did she say?”

I turned around to face my best friend. Concern born of seven years’ worth of friendship was written on his open face. Whatever his faults, you could never accuse Mark of being unconcerned.

“I – ah – wrote her a letter,” I said slightly embarrassed.

“I see,” he said quietly. He pursed his lips. “Did she say anything?”

“I asked her not to read it until after commencement.”

“I see,” he said again. I could tell he was disappointed in me.

There was another one of those awkward silences. I felt oddly like a mischievous schoolboy who’d been sent to the principal’s office for some infraction of the rules. Mark just shook his head in disbelief and gave me a tut-tut look.

“You know,” he said quietly, “sometimes playing it safe can be the worst thing you can do.”

“Macht nichts,” I said bitterly.

“Like hell, macht nichts, pal. It makes a hell of a difference, if you ask me.” Mark shook his head sadly. “I really don’t want to be there when you find out for yourself what a stupid mistake it is that you made today.”
― Alex Diaz-Granados, Reunion: A Story: A Novella

“Hello, Jimmy,' said an all-too-familiar voice from somewhere behind me. It was Marty. No one else at South Miami had that delightful, almost exotic English accent.

I turned around slowly until I faced her. “Hi, Marty,” I said.

She got up from one of the few chairs that had not been placed in storage and gave me a shy half-smile. “So, come to say goodbye, then?” Marty asked.

I gazed at her, committing every detail of her appearance to memory. She wore faded Levi’s blue jeans, a white and orange SOUTH MIAMI CHORUS T-shirt, white socks and an old pair of Keds sneakers. Her chestnut hair was tied into a ponytail. She wore very little makeup; a touch of mascara here, a hint of blush there, a bit of lip-gloss to make things a bit interesting. She was shockingly, heartrendingly beautiful.

My heart skipped a beat. “I couldn’t go without seeing you, you know,” I said.

She smiled. “Oh, come on; I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“It’s true,” I said. “And no, I don’t say that to all the girls.”
― Alex Diaz-Granados, Reunion: A Story: A Novella

“I’m sorry,' [Marty] said unexpectedly.

“Huh?”

“That we never got to perform that duet together. Don’t you remember? For the Spring Concert?”

“Oh, yeah. What was that song we were going to sing?” I asked.

She placed her right hand on her hip and mock-pouted at me. “James Garraty, don’t tell me you forgot.”

I gave her an impish who, me look. When she smiled, I said in a more serious tone: “‘Somewhere,’ from West Side Story.” I hummed the song’s first measure; it sounded a half-octave off key.

Marty frowned. “You haven’t practiced lately,” she said disapprovingly.

“No, I haven’t,” I said, and as I said it waves of melancholy washed over me like a cold dark tide. Marty saw my expression change; she walked up to me and placed her arm around my shoulder comfortingly.

“I know,” she said softly, “how much you were looking forward to it, Jim. I was looking forward to singing that duet with you, too.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really. You’re a terrific singer. Who wouldn’t want to sing a duet with you?”

“I bet,” I said, “you say that to all the boys.”

She laughed. My heart jumped as it usually did when she laughed. A thought clicked in my brain: What was it I’d written just a while ago? You are the one person who has the ability to brighten up a sour day. You have always managed to make me return a smile to someone else.”
― Alex Diaz-Granados, Reunion: A Story: A Novella