Sarah

“You can write it all down, you can put it in your book of facts, but the truth is no one can ever really understand the tangle of experiences and passions that makes you who you are. It's a secret collection, a private language, a pebble in your pocket that you play with when you're anxious.”
― Raphael Bob-Waksberg, Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory

“What do we have here?” she asked him putting hers away.

“Open it.”

Aurora let the tiny volume fall open. Inside there were not pages but a summer’s sky graced with towering white clouds. She poked her fingers into the book and watched the clouds part around them. The sky was in the book; it was also over the book, a page and a sky, two-dimensional and three-dimensional at once as it towered upward.

“Look at you, Mister Impossible,” Aurora whispered fondly. She opened and closed it several times to see if the sky would change. It did. From day to night to day again. Sun to stars to sun. “Now, let’s bury it.”

“Bury it?” echoed Ronan. He wanted to show it to Declan, to Niall. He wanted to put it on his shelf.

Aurora stood up and brushed the grass off her skirt. “Little things like this are best as secrets. It’s very important to remember that.”

It didn’t feel important to remember that. It felt important to show it to someone. Ronan tried to understand.

“For how long?”

She kissed the top of his head. “Forever.”

Forever?”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Mister Impossible

“So let’s be kind to the people in our own existence. Let’s occasionally look up from the spot in which we are because, wherever we happen to be standing, the sky above goes on for ever. Yesterday I knew I had no future, and that it was impossible for me to accept my life as it is now. And yet today, that same messy life seems full of hope. Potential. The impossible, I suppose, happens via living. Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression? No. But do I want to live? Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.”
― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

“I am nothing in my soul if not obsessive.”
― Donna Tartt, The Secret History