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Caroline George Biography

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“Knowing him was sweatpants and suntans and riding in his Jeep until the sky turned pink and purple. Growing up with him involved the best days, fishing off his dock as crickets chirped in the background, watching outdoor movies until we fell asleep on his old bedspread. It was love. It was young. And I feel it all still, burning in the places it shouldn’t be. Even though he betrayed me.”

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Book:The Summer We Forgot
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“We can forgive but we can’t forget. Whoever says otherwise hasn’t known true pain. Hear me out. Hearts are muscles, and muscles have memory. So, of course our hearts can’t forget. They remember what hurts them. They remember so they can grow stronger. I think that’s why we must remember. If we forgot the moment we forgave, we wouldn’t receive the strength that comes from hurting. And something good must come from all the bad. Something. Anything. Even the faintest good.”

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Book:Dearest Josephine
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“If I seem to not want to be with him now, it’s only because love scares me too, more than manipulation, because love is a choice I make and not something forced upon me. I trust him, but I don’t trust myself. I must have time to trust myself so I can completely love him. He’s the grenade. I’m the grenade. We’ll blow each other to pieces… Together.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“Boys are unpredictable and stupid and brash. They do creepy, stalkerish things because they believe in extreme measures. They love to the fullest and ignore completely. They heal hearts and grind them to dust. To have nothing from a boy is devastating, but when he gives his all, the world becomes an electric place, and that is why women love them so—their all is worth the risk.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“Missing someone is the worst form of torture because it never goes away no matter where you are or what you do with your life. When a person is gone and all you have of them is a fuzzy recollection of what it was like to hear your phone buzz with texts from them, the joy you experienced while in their company, that instance when the bond you shared shattered, you long for all that was lost and could’ve been gained. You have memories and nothing more. And no matter how much times passes, you still feel the ache of their absence whenever they rise into your thoughts. Torture.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“The apocalypse was supposed to be cliché drama, Godzilla roaming the streets and zombies crawling from graves to devour the living. I guess all of humankind wanted to believe they’d end with a bang instead of unnoticed silence. We all, deep down, want to believe in a future where our historical monuments and literature hold significance. We want our deaths to be important. We want to matter.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“Making-out is one thing that won’t change even if civilization fizzles and humanity is reduced to two people. So each time Jack and I kiss, it’s as if we’re flipping off the jerks who destroyed our planet, as if we’re screaming at the top of our lungs… We know your secret. And we won’t be made invisible.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“What does a freelance researcher do?” “Researches things.” He winks at me and helps lift my bike onto a cobblestone walkway. “It’s not an interesting or particularly sexy job. Nobody wants to date a perpetual studier, but I bet there’s an army of guys crawling over each other to get to you.” More like crawling away. “You’re ridiculous. Who’d ever want to date me?” “Someone like you? There’d be a line at your door as soon as work got out.” “Oh, would you be in the line?” Sarcasm. Not a real question. I don’t care if he responds—heat burns my toes, ears, and everything in-between—well, maybe I care a little. Jack pauses and gazes into me. “Yeah … I’m in the line … and I’m better than all the other guys so you should really pick me. I’m funny. I’m strong, like, I could sweep you off your feet and run without breaking a sweat. I can also blow milk through my nose, but only if I’m drunk and the milk is warm.”

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Book:The Vestige
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“Humanity knows not to take big things for granted. We understand the importance of loved ones, health, acceptance, but what about the billion other elements that define who we are? Big we see. For big, we toss and turn at night, fearing big loss. And yet, the little things we overlook. Forgetting to savour life’s details, such as the taste of fresh scones or the scent of books opened for the first time, is our greatest deprivation. Such pleasures are not subject to change. However, we change. Our hearts break, and pastries lose their flavour. Love dies, and our senses dull. By losing a big thing, we lose all the littles by default.”

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Book:Dearest Josephine
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