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I was familiar with the little mating rituals of getting to know each other, of dragging out the stories from childhood, summer camp, and high school,...more

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And he isn't crying for her, not for his grandma, he's crying for himself: that he: too, is going to die one day. And before that his friends wil die,...more

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You’re lost in your own world, in the things that happen there, and you’ve locked all the doors. Sometimes I look at you sleeping. I wake up and look ...more

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She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into smaller and smaller parts and scatter these in places she thought no one wo...more

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I read differently now, more painstakingly, knowing I am probably revisiting the books I love for the last time. (245)

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She struggled with her sadness, but tried to conceal it, to divide it into smaller and smaller parts and scatter these in places she thought no one wo...more

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She’s kept her love for him as alive as the summer they first met. In order to do this, she’s turned life away. Sometimes she subsists for days on wat...more

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She abandoned the garden, and the mums and asters that had trusted her to see them through to the first frost hung their waterlogged heads.

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It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world has been betraying you.

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HOW ANGELS SLEEP. Unsoundly. They toss and turn, trying to understand the mystery of the living. They know so little about what it's like to fill a ne...more

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there are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone.