Tom Morton

“And I wondered how it would feel to be in heaven someday and not have my face matter anymore. Just like it never, ever mattered to Daisy.”
― R.J. Palacio, Wonder

“You hear the expression empty nest and imagine the downy expanse of it, the absence of cheeping, maybe the bird pair connecting more intimately, what with nobody barging in at midnight needing either of them to read an email to their history teacher or inspect a weird freckle that turns out to be Magic Marker. But often an empty nest is two birds looking at each other, shell-shocked and nostalgic, over the single worm they’re now splitting for dinner, discussing what to do with the worm leftovers.”
― Catherine Newman, Sandwich

“Polly, she stabbed you with a fork today. She’s not giving you her baby.”
― Freida McFadden, The Crash

“My God, how she cried out! How she started! How she tore herself out of my arms and rushed to meet him! I stood and looked at them, utterly crushed. But she had hardly given him her hand, had hardly flung herself into his arms, when she turned to me again, was beside me again in a flash, and before I knew where I was she threw both arms round my neck and gave me a warm, tender kiss. Then, without saying a word to me, she rushed back to him again, took his hand, and drew him after her.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights