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Quote by SoulWanderer_

“Sometimes, it's our broken heart that builds up indestructible walls to avert us falling in love again.”

Quote by SoulWanderer_

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SoulWanderer_

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“I didn't want to cry. I didn't. But she was my /sister/, and she'd died in my arms, and... Griffin only held me quietly, his hands stroking my back. Once, he pressed his lips against my temple. "Thank you," I whispered, when I could speak again. "For what?" "Everything. Going with me tonight. Fetching me a suit to change into, and pouring be brandy, and making sure none of the servants were listening in, and putting up with my awful family, and this..." "I love you." He kissed me softly, once on each eyelid. "Whatever family you claim is mine as well. I'm with you no matter what." I spoke thirteen languages, and yet I had no words to express what his presence meant to me.”

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“We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours forever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touch of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass. All this happened so long ago. And I never returned, never wrote, never met anyone who might have given me news of Oxgody. So, in memory, it stays as I left it, a sealed room furnished by the past, airless, still, ink long dry on a put-down pen. But this was something I knew nothing of as I closed the gate and set off across the meadow.”

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“Everything in her life, she could see now, had taken the same turn—as for love, she often puzzled and puzzled, without ever allowing herself to be fully sad, as to what could be wrong with the formula. It does not work, she thought. At times there were moments when she asked herself if she could have been in the wrong: she would almost rather think that. What she thought she regretted was her lack of guard, her wayward extravagance—but had she all the time been more guarded than she imagined, had she been deceitful, had she been seen through? For what had always happened she could still not account. There seemed to be some way she did not know of by which people managed to understand each other.”

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“She never saw it again. Day and night the river flows down into England, day after day the sun retreats into the Welsh mountains, and the tower chimes: 'See the Conquering Hero.' But the Wilcoxes have no part in the place, nor in any place. It is not their names that recur in the parish register. It is not their ghosts that sigh among the alders at evening. They have swept into the valley and swept out of it, leaving a little dust and a little money behind.”

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