Punky

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Book cover for The House at the End of the World
However, she can’t help but wonder how much loss a heart can endure before it beats only with foreboding. Nevada is very far away.
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Catriona Ward
“I judge people two ways—on how they treat animals, and on what they like to eat. If their favorite food is some kind of salad, they are definitely a bad person. Anything with cheese, they are probably OK.”
Catriona Ward, The Last House on Needless Street

Kate Elizabeth Russell
“Break his heart? I try to imagine myself having that power, holding his heart, mine to abuse, but even when I picture it pulsing and pumping in my hands, it´s still the boss of me, leading me around, jerking me this way and that with me clinging and unable to let go.”
Kate Elizabeth Russell, My Dark Vanessa

Hanya Yanagihara
“...things get broken, and sometimes they get repaired, and in most cases, you realize that no matter what gets damaged, life rearranges itself to compensate for your loss, sometimes wonderfully.”
Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

Hanya Yanagihara
“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child's whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tenderness, of fondness, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent's reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”
Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

S.T. Gibson
“You did not let me keep my name, so I will strip you of yours. In this world you are what I say you are, and I say you are a ghost, a long night's fever dream that I have finally woken up from. I say you are the smoke-wisp memory of a flame, thawing ice suffering under an early spring sun, a chalk ledger of depts being wiped clean. I say you do not have a name.”
S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

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