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spunge
https://www.goodreads.com/gat-mhmm
spunge
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(page 30 of 320)
"It's actually easier to read than I thought it would be, only stopping now cause I do need to go to sleep but yeah it's surprising good so far." — Jul 09, 2021 06:46PM
"It's actually easier to read than I thought it would be, only stopping now cause I do need to go to sleep but yeah it's surprising good so far." — Jul 09, 2021 06:46PM
“He asked about Dad and about Gran- as if talking about something could make it better. As if wounds needed attention.”
― We Were Liars
― We Were Liars
“I see it for what is is, now. It is a house built on ashes. Ashes of the life Granddad shared with Gran, ashes of the maple from which the tire swing flew, ashes of the old Victorian house with the porch and the hammock. The new house is built on the grave of all the trophies and symbols of the family: the New Yorker cartoons, the taxidermy, the embroidered pillows, the family portraits.”
― We Were Liars
― We Were Liars
“She confused being spartan with being charitable, and gave away her possessions without truly doing good with them.
She confused being sick with being brave, and suffered agonies while imagining she merited praise for it.
She confused wit with intelligence, and made people laugh rather than lightening their hearts or making them think.”
― We Were Liars
She confused being sick with being brave, and suffered agonies while imagining she merited praise for it.
She confused wit with intelligence, and made people laugh rather than lightening their hearts or making them think.”
― We Were Liars
“I'll be fine, they tell me. I won't die. It'll just hurt a lot.”
― We Were Liars
― We Were Liars
“Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound,
then from my eyes,
my ears,
my mouth.
It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.”
― We Were Liars
then from my eyes,
my ears,
my mouth.
It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.”
― We Were Liars
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