Aime Tercero

“I always knew that he would never fall in love again after Mom. In that way, my dad was always easy to understand. He was straightforward and quiet: he walked quietly, spoke quietly; even his anger was quiet. It was his love that was booming. His love was a roaring, vociferous bellow. And after he loved Mom with the strength of the sun, and after the cancer killed her with a gentle gasp, I figured he would be hoarse for the rest of his life and wouldn’t ever want another woman the way he’d wanted her.”
― Christina Lauren, Love and Other Words

“Imagine me
master of my own universe
I am everything I ever dreamed of”
― Tahereh Mafi, Imagine Me

“I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same. I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes. Get me wet, and I melt. Light me on fire, and I burn. Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple. I tear. I am but paper. Brittle and thin.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea

“But guess what?”
“What?”
“There was no treasure after all! It was a lie to get you here for your party!”
“Oh. I see. So the real treasure was the friendships we made along the way?”
“You guys are the worst,” Lucy muttered. “The literal worst.”
― T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea