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Quote by Emily Henry

“I'm happy, so happy to be a tiny fleck of a thing alongside you. We may just be moments, June, but to love a handful of people very well, that's a good life. I was just a blip, a spark, the blink of God's eyes. Because of you, it was more than enough. It was everything.”

Quote by Emily Henry

Book:A Million Junes
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A Million Junes

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Emily Henry

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LossRacismImmigrationBelongingExileAlienationRefugeesRacial ProfilingOriginProfiling
Author:Louis Yako
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“I lay in bed, feeling the champagne tide retreating and leaving me beached, like some unfortunate sea creature. In its absence the Thing--heavy, black, suffocating--returned, as if it had been waiting all evening for the two of us to be alone. It slid oil-slick over my skin, filled my nostrils, pooled at the back of my throat. It whispered in my ear, stories about loss and loneliness and little orphan girls.”

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Book:The Ten Thousand Doors of January
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“He heard a dresser drawer slide shut in the bedroom. She came out dressed all in black, as she almost always did, and carrying the three pieces of a plate that had fallen off the bed the night before; it was a light shade of blue, and sticky with pomegranate juice. He heard her dropping it into the kitchen trash can before she wandered past him into the living room. She stood in front of his sofa, running her fingers through her hair to test for dampness, her expression a little blank when he glanced up at her, and it seemed to him later that she’d been considering something, perhaps making up her mind. But then, he played the morning back so many times that the tape was ruined—later it seemed possible that she’d simply been thinking about the weather, and later still he was even willing to consider the possibility that she hadn’t stood in front of the sofa at all—had merely paused there, perhaps, for an instant that the stretched-out reel extended into a moment, a scene, and finally a major plot point. Later he was certain that the first few playbacks of that last morning were reasonably accurate, but after a few too many nights of lying awake and considering things, the quality began to erode. In retrospect the sequence of events is a little hazy, images running into each other and becoming slightly confused: she’s across the room, she’s kissing him for a third time—and why doesn’t he look up and kiss her? Her last kiss lands on his head—and putting on her shoes; does she kiss him before she puts on her shoes, or afterward? He can’t swear to it one way or the other. Later on he examined his memory for signs until every detail seemed ominous, but eventually he had to conclude that there was nothing strange about her that day. It was a morning like any other, exquisitely ordinary in every respect.”

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Book:Paradise lost
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“A thousand times over with you, I yearned to linger in a perfect moment and stop the passing of time. A thousand times over with you, I caught your tender smile and tucked it carefully away in my heart for safekeeping. A thousand times over with you, I took in your sunny gaze and hoarded its light for the wintry season. A thousand times over with you, I heard your laughter and sat silent as it vibrated like music in my soul. A thousand times over with you, I saw your eyes twinkle like stars, and I made a wish for forever. A thousand times over with you, I noted wisdom in your years, and I filed away your thoughtful words. A thousand times over with you, I felt the warmth of your hand in mine and squeezed tight, reluctant to let go. A thousand times over with you, I pondered how quickly mortality ushers us from sunrise to sunset, and I dreaded the night. A thousand times over with you, I embraced the promise of immortality, dreaming of a day when perfect moments linger pleasantly on and on and on a thousand times over with you.”

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“Most of the time I lack closure; a reason. Without closure, you are perpetually haunted by the separation. Even if the reason is obvious, there is no easy way to move on, despite what people say. I have lost enough to know that when people say "You are better off" or "Just move on", they do not understand. Most of the pain comes not from the separation itself, but from the chaos created internally.”

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Book:The BPD Journals: A Year in the Life
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