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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIKE THE WAY YOUR FAMILY RING LOOKS ON HER FINGER YOU USED AS A DECOY FOR THE TRIP?!?!?!? JEM DONT PLAY WITH ME PLLLSSS" — Mar 25, 2026 09:26PM
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LIKE THE WAY YOUR FAMILY RING LOOKS ON HER FINGER YOU USED AS A DECOY FOR THE TRIP?!?!?!? JEM DONT PLAY WITH ME PLLLSSS" — Mar 25, 2026 09:26PM
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"No work of fiction could possibly be worth 1000 pages… so why is this revamped dramione fic 1030?!?!?!?!?" — Mar 08, 2026 08:09PM
"No work of fiction could possibly be worth 1000 pages… so why is this revamped dramione fic 1030?!?!?!?!?" — Mar 08, 2026 08:09PM
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"This was in the mystery box me and my church friends bought on spring break in some bookstore in destine and it was 5 bucks… so here I am… reading it… it’s pretty okay so far, I don’t read a lot of mysteries but I do want to know what happens and its very digestible so I’m not mad at it" — Mar 04, 2026 06:39AM
"This was in the mystery box me and my church friends bought on spring break in some bookstore in destine and it was 5 bucks… so here I am… reading it… it’s pretty okay so far, I don’t read a lot of mysteries but I do want to know what happens and its very digestible so I’m not mad at it" — Mar 04, 2026 06:39AM
“Please,” Vicky scoffed. “Nothing is new. It’s the same old assholes doing the same old assholey things. Nothing will get better until we get out of here.”
“For you, I wish for second chances”
― Once and for All
― Once and for All
“Who am I? Who am I?”
“You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs. You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen. You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way. You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it. You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again. You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.”
"And who are you?"
"I'm Willem Ragnarsson. And I will never let you go.”
― A Little Life
“You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs. You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen. You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way. You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it. You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again. You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.”
"And who are you?"
"I'm Willem Ragnarsson. And I will never let you go.”
― A Little Life
“I put my pen to the paper and began to write. I’d made so many wishes for so many couples quietly in my head as they drove away, but writing the words out made it seem more real, possible. For them, and maybe for me.
FOR YOU, I WISH FOR SECOND CHANCES.
I folded it shut, then put it on the wall before I could change my mind, right above Jilly’s. As Michael Salem called out to her and she started his way, I crossed the backyard, moving toward the music. When I looked back at the wish wall from a distance, it was a sea of squares: I couldn’t even find mine among them. So many things we ask for, hope for, prayers put out into a world so wide: there was no way they could all be answered. But you had to keep asking. If you didn’t, nothing even had a chance of coming true.”
― Once and for All
FOR YOU, I WISH FOR SECOND CHANCES.
I folded it shut, then put it on the wall before I could change my mind, right above Jilly’s. As Michael Salem called out to her and she started his way, I crossed the backyard, moving toward the music. When I looked back at the wish wall from a distance, it was a sea of squares: I couldn’t even find mine among them. So many things we ask for, hope for, prayers put out into a world so wide: there was no way they could all be answered. But you had to keep asking. If you didn’t, nothing even had a chance of coming true.”
― Once and for All
“Everything in life had its phases, and if you were smart, you learned to appreciate them all.
What really mattered, though, were the people in those moments with you. Memories are what we have and what we keep, and I held mine close. The ones I knew well, like a night on the beach with a boy who would always live in my heart, and the ones yet to come with another.”
― Once and for All
What really mattered, though, were the people in those moments with you. Memories are what we have and what we keep, and I held mine close. The ones I knew well, like a night on the beach with a boy who would always live in my heart, and the ones yet to come with another.”
― Once and for All
“He had looked at Jude, then, and had felt that same sensation he sometimes did when he thought, really thought of Jude and what his life had been: a sadness, he might have called it, but it wasn't a pitying sadness; it was a larger sadness, one that seemed to encompass all the poor striving people, the billions he didn't know, all living their lives, a sadness that mingled with a wonder and awe at how hard humans everywhere tried to live, even when their days were so very difficult, even when their circumstances were so wretched. Life is so sad, he would think in those moments. It's so sad, and yet we all do it.”
― A Little Life
― A Little Life
Lauren’s 2025 Year in Books
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