Emily Mathias

“Gabe?"
The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.
"There could be love", Jonas whispered.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver

“Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I don't know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors. And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleepingroom. "And everybody would have the memories."

"You know the memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib.

Garbriel's breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn.

"Gabe?"

The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.

"There could be love," Jonas whispered.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver

“He knew that there was no quick comfort for emotions like those. They were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver

“It's just that... without the memories it's all meaningless.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver