Quotes in category: “Authors”:

All this thinking--consciously not thinking-- about how things would end, and now, just like that, they were about to. It was the very nature of summer. So many long, lazy days when blissfully, nothing changes, and then everything does, all at once. 

We were willing to do so much for the people we loved, even if it meant hurting ourselves. Maybe that, in the end, was what love--all kinds-- was really about.

Everything had started in such sharp detail, each aspect pronounced and clear. Obviously, endings were different. Harder to see, full of shapes that could be one thing or another, with all the things that you were once so sure of suddenly not familiar, if they were even recognizable at all.

We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn’t really make anything any neater. It just masks what is below. It’s only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are.

What had he said to me that first day? Something about natural chemistry. He claimed he’d noticed it right from the start, and maybe it was an explanation, of sorts, of why we kept coming together, again and again.

I was beginning to understand, though, that there were no such things as absolutes, not in life or in people

This was just one night, one chance to vary and see where it took me. the fireflies were probably already out: maybe it wasn’t just a season or a time but a whole world I’d forgotten. I’d never know until I stepped out into it. So I did.  

Funny how it was only when he was finally right there in front of her that she knew for sure he was already gone.

Serious relationships are not something anyone should really be actively looking for because sometimes, the best relationships happen only by accident. I was beginning to see, though, that the unknown wasn't always the greatest thing to fear. The people who know you best can be riskier, the words they say and the things they think have the potential to be not only scary, but true as well. 

And the bottom line is, what defines you isn't how many times you crash, but the number of times you get back on the bike. As long as it's one more, you're all good.

There’s no way to be a hundred percent sure about anyone or anything. So you’re left with a choice. Either hope for the best or just expect the worst.

Something's happening to me. It's like I'm shrinking smaller and smaller and I can't stop. There's just so much wrong that I can't imagine the shame in admitting even the tiniest part of it. When you left it was like there was this huge gap to fill, but instead of spreading wide enough to do it I just fell right in, and I'm still falling. Like I'm half asleep, and I can't wake up, can't wake up. 

She'd spent her whole life wanting to be someone else, something else, and it had gotten her nowhere. I wanted to reach through that mirror and shake her, wake her up. But it was too late now.

It was so easy to disown what you couldn't recognize, to keep yourself apart from things that were foreign and unsettling. The only person you can be sure to control, always, is yourself. Which is a lot to be sure of, but at the same time, not enough.

That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again.

Amazing how you could get so far from where you’d planned, and yet find it was exactly where you needed to be.

Maybe the truth was, it shouldn't be easy to be amazing. Then everything would be. It's the things you fight for and struggle with before earning that have the greatest worth. Wen someting's difficult to come by, you'll do that much more to make sure it's even harder--if not impossible-- to lose.

You couldn't just pick and choose at will when someone depended on you, or loved you. 
It wasn't like al ight switch, easy to shut on or off. If you were in, you were in. Out, you were out. To me, it didn't seem complicated at all. In fact, it was the simplest thing in the world.

It was terrible and awful when someone left you. You could move on, do the best you could, but an ending was an ending. No matter how many pages of sentences and paragraphs of great stories led up to it, it would always have the last word.

He was not my boyfriend. On the other hand, he wasn't just a friend either. Instead, our relationship was elastic, stretching between those two extremes depending on who else was around, how much either of us had to drink, and other varying factors. This was exactly what I wanted, as commitments had never really been my thing. And it wasn't like it was hard, either. The only trick was never giving more than you were willing to lose. 

The further you go, the more you have to be proud of. At the same time, in order to come a long way, you have to be behind to begin with. In the end, though, maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.

Through my tears, I could hear her saying it was all going to be okay, and I know she believed this. But I was sure of something, too: it's a lot easier to be lost than found. It's the reason we're always searching, and rarely discovered-- so many locks, not enough keys.

My point is, there are a lot of people in the world. No one ever sees everything the same way you do; it just doesn't happen. So when you find one person who gets a couple of things, especially if they're important ones... you might as well hold on to them.

But wasn't that always the way. It's never something huge that changes everything, but instead the tiniest of details, irrevocably tweaking the balance of the universe while you're busy focusing on the big picture.

What is family? They were the people who claimed you. In good, in bad, in parts or in whole, they were the ones who showed up, who stayed in there, regardless. We had many families over time. Our family of origin, the family we created, as well as the groups you moved through while all of this was happening: friends, lovers, sometimes even strangers. None of them were perfect, and we couldn't expect them to be. You couldn't make any one person your world. The trick was to take what each could give you and build a world from it.