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Quote by L.M. Montgomery

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Anne of Windy Poplars

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L.M. Montgomery

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“People scooped up these tabloids, devoured their gossip.. But now, for some reason, I found myself thinking about Morrie whenever I read anything silly or mindless. I kept picturing him there, in the house with the Japanese maple.. counting his breath, squeezing out every moment with his loved ones, while I spent so many hours on things that meant absolutely nothing to me personally.”

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Book:Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
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“I was astonished by his complete lack of self-pity. Morrie, who could no longer dance, swim, bathe, or walk; Morrie, who could no longer answer his own door, dry himself after a shower, or even roll over in bed. How could he be so accepting? I watched him struggle with a fork, picking at a piece of tomato, missing it the first two times - a pathetic scene, and yet I could not deny that sitting in his presence was almost magically serene, the same calm breeze that soothed me back in college.”

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Book:Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
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“I asked Morrie if he felt sorry for himself. "Sometimes, in the mornings," he said. "That's when I mourn. I feel around my body, I move my fingers and my hands - whatever I can still move - and I mourn what I've lost. I mourn the slow, insidious way in which I'm dying. But then I stop mourning.”

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Book:Tuesdays With Morrie: An old man, a young man, and life's greatest lesson
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“"Eva?" the monster whispered, feathering a panicked touch to her cheek. Her color was fading, a deathly pallor swallowing the rosy hue of sun-touched skin. "Wake up," it pleaded weakly, cradling the back of her neck to prevent her head from lolling. Salt burned the corners of its eyes. Strange, how tears could hurt sometimes. With a little sob, the monster repositioned Eva on the grass and pressed both palms to the wound in her side. The gentle pressure made Eva convulse, her eyes slitting open. She moaned. "I’m sorry." The monster couldn’t tell where its panic ended and Arthur’s began. The level of terror coursing through their shared being was so violent it made the monster nauseous. "I’m so sorry. But you’ve got to stay awake for me.” It scrubbed under its eyes, clearing the blurriness away, tasting salt. "You have to stay.” Eva’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The monster stripped off Arthur’s shirt and balled it up, then pressed it to her wound. "Come on, Freckles,” it choked out. The monster had never prayed before. What was a creature like it supposed to do with God, anyway? But it firmly believed that if anyone should curry divine favor, it was Arthur’s bee girl.”

DyingRomantasyPersonality DisorderDark HeroIrredeemableInner DemonRomantic Tragedy
Book:Honey in Her Veins
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