The ocean was the best place, of course. That was what she loved most. It was a feeling of freedom like no other, and yet a feeling of communion with all the other places and creatures the water touched.
All the things she planned to feel, the way she planned to look and seem, the appropriate things she planned to say. None of them came to pass.
You could feel things or you could find a way to shut down. But once you were feeling things, you couldn’t decide exactly what to feel. That was the trouble with letting them in at all. They made a mess of the place.
She had willed her heart to stay small and contained, but it wouldn’t be. Oh, well.
I love you, I'll never stop.
Love didn't necessarily look the way you expected it to.
Ruins stood for what was lost, and yet there were beautiful-peaceful, historic, intellectual. Not tragic or regrettable. Lena tried to keep hers that way too, and she succeeded to some extent. Why not celebrate what you had rather than spend your time mourning its passing? There could be joy in things that ended.
Sometimes you need to make a mess. -Loretta, the Rollinses' hosekeeper
Sometimes you couldn’t face the sadness of being forgotten until you felt the comfort of being remembered again.
Particularly beautiful people were like particularly funny-looking people, though. Once you know them you mostly forgot about it.
There was one thing Bridget like about guys. They took insults well.
Can you make yourself love? Can you make yourself loved? -Lena Kaligaris
The weather turned. Her skin seemed to grow a million extra pores, and all of them opened to take in the warmth and tenderness of the air. The sun on her face made her want to cry. Into all those millions of open pores came the sunshine, and other feelings as well. In and out. She was porous.
How sad it was, Carmen thought, that you acted awful when you were desperately sad and hurt and wanted to be loved. How tragic then, the way everyone avoided you and tiptoed around you when you really needed them. Carmen knew this vicious predicament as well as anyone in the world. How bitter it felt when you acted badly to everyone and ended up hating yourself the most.
Alice suspected Paul couldn’t really picture his father, just like she couldn’t picture Paul when he was away. Maybe that was the case with people you wanted more than was good for you.
Time is what keeps things from happening all at once.
Wish for what you want, work for what you need. -Carmen's grandmother
She used to cry roughly three times a year. Now she seemed to cry three times before breakfast. Could that be considered progress?
One must have a good memory to keep the promises one has made.
It was their mothers, long ago. Tibby noted with joy that all four of them were wearing jeans.
There were certain qualities you possessed carelessly. And you couldn't retrieve them when they were gone. The very act of caring made them impossible to regain.
She thought she would know when it happened. But now, as she looked around, she wondered if it was really like that at all. Maybe it happened in a million different ways, when you were thinking of it and you weren't. Maybe there was no gap, no jump, no chasm. You didn't forget yourself all at once. Maybe you just looked around one time or another and you thought, Hey. And there you were.
You'll turn out ordinary if you're not careful.
I love her. I need her. I gave away everything I had for her. I just wanted her to know me.
She wondered again about her inclination to wish for things that made her so deeply unhappy.
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