zoe ♡

“But let’s be clear about one thing, you are not anybody’s father.” Kit looked at Nina, trying to catch her eye. But Nina would not break her gaze. She stared only at Mick. It would not be her that bent and broke anymore.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, Malibu Rising

“We hurt each other very badly. And that is my biggest regret.
That is my very biggest regret. Because I loved her with all of my
fucking soul. To this day, there is a piece of me that still loves her. And
there is a piece of me that will never forgive her.”
― Taylor Jenkins Reid, Malibu Rising

“She unlocked the door, and they walked through to the small backyard. It was fall, and two of their three fruit trees were in season: a Fuyu persimmon tree and a guava tree. “Sadie, do you see this? This is a persimmon tree! This is my favorite fruit.” Marx picked a fat orange persimmon from the tree, and he sat down on the now termite-free wooden deck, and he ate it, juice running down his chin. “Can you believe our luck?” Marx said. “We bought a house with a tree that has my actual favorite fruit.” Sam used to say that Marx was the most fortunate person he had ever met—he was lucky with lovers, in business, in looks, in life. But the longer Sadie knew Marx, the more she thought Sam hadn’t truly understood the nature of Marx’s good fortune. Marx was fortunate because he saw everything as if it were a fortuitous bounty. It was impossible to know—were persimmons his favorite fruit, or had they just now become his favorite fruit because there they were, growing in his own backyard? He had certainly never mentioned persimmons before. My God, she thought, he is so easy to love. “Shouldn’t you wash that?” Sadie asked. “It’s our tree. Nothing’s touched it except my grimy hand,” Marx said. “What about the birds?” “I don’t fear the birds, Sadie. But you should have one of these.” Marx stood, and he picked another fruit for himself and one for her. He walked over to the hose at the side of the house, and he rinsed the persimmon. He held out the fruit to her. “Eat up, my love. Fuyus only yield every other year.” Sadie took a bite of the fruit. It was mildly sweet, its flesh somewhere between a peach and a cantaloupe. Maybe it was her favorite fruit, too?”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“How did anybody say goodbye to someone they loved? But that was what the world demanded, wasn’t it? Again and again, the world insisted upon betrayals, goodbyes. How could anyone bear it?”
― Kate DiCamillo, The Beatryce Prophecy