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“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
―
―
“You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.”
―
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.”
―
“I don’t want to know what your favorite color is
but I do want to know what color you bleed
when you’re with me.”
―
but I do want to know what color you bleed
when you’re with me.”
―
“You,
with your hands full of Earth and your head full of
rainfall. How many hearts do you hold in your own?”
― The Anatomy of Being
with your hands full of Earth and your head full of
rainfall. How many hearts do you hold in your own?”
― The Anatomy of Being
“I think we all speak a different sort of language
than one another, but boy you sound a whole lot like coffee on a
Sunday morning.”
― The Anatomy of Being
than one another, but boy you sound a whole lot like coffee on a
Sunday morning.”
― The Anatomy of Being
Ploypan’s 2025 Year in Books
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