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"What do you think she'll be like?" she whispered, after
a moment.
"Who?" I said gently, holding her to my chest.
"The girl you'll meet after me. Your soulmate."
My heart shattered into a million pieces.

we all need a maddy in our lives!!!!!

so much respect and love for men in this book ❤️

"We loved each other and we lost each other. And now, even though we still love each other, the pieces don't fit like they used to." - oh jesse 💔

Falling out of love with someone you still like feels exactly like lying in a warm bed and hearing the alarm clock. No matter how good you feel right now, you know it's time to go.

emma i understand but you are becoming annoying

I feel like my entire body is an open wound and I'm standing next to someone that may or may not pour salt all over me.

ooooh sam

girl, are you in a pickle!

Happy moments are the worst, that's when the ache is strongest. - about grief

I wish I'd done everything on earth with you.

For ten years I had carried on loving her, loving her with all my heart. That was why I had allowed no one else in. But now I loved her even more than ever before.

If I were to spend the rest of my life in supplication, seeking forgiveness for having murdered her memory, I fear I would not succeed - for the greatest betrayal, the greatest sin we can commit against the most blameless, is to abandon a loving heart, and for that I shall never be forgiven.

The pain of losing something precious - be it earthly happiness or material wealth - can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently.
Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.

That night I came to understand how it was possible to be more attached to another person than to life itself. And that night I also came to understand how hollow life would be without her. As hollow as a walnut shell, tossed by the winds.

I had so much to say to her, enough to fill whole years or an eternity... but at that moment, I couldn't think of a single word.

If he wanted to, he would. simple as that - about Jake
painfully naive or just living in her Nantucket pink bubble - about Mallory

palette cleanser after a heavy reading month 🫠

They were back in front of the apartment now, in front of the same place he'd gotten his heart broken four years ago, so why not break it again in the same spot?

"Does it really ever go anywhere?"
"Does what?"
"Love. Does it vanish?"
Yale looked at his own hand, resting on the dashboard to keep himself steady whenever Asher braked suddenly. "I mean, we never want it to. But it does, doesn't it?"
Asher said, "I think that's the saddest thing in the world, the failure of love. Not hatred, but the failure of love."

But when someone's gone and you're the primary keeper of his memory—letting go would be a kind of murder, wouldn't it? I had so much love for him, even if it was a complicated love, and where is all that love supposed to go? He was gone, so it couldn't change, it couldn't turn to indifference. I was stuck with all that love.

"It’s so beautiful," Roman said. "Doomed love."

No, Cecily, I'm upset because I'm thirty-one and all my friends are fucking dying.

What mortal wouldn't fall for that, at least a little bit? To know that someone was longing for you was the world's strongest aphrodisiac.

Anyone, Eliza is thinking, who describes dying as 'slipping away' or 'peaceful has never witnessed it happen. Death is violent, death is a struggle. The body clings to life, as ivy to a wall, and will not easily let go, will not surrender its grip without a fight.

this book is already 5 stars!

Tears are appearing on her cheeks now, like silver seeds, as if by magic. He knows they are his, falling from his eyes on to her face, but they could just as easily be hers. They are one and the same.

He will carry an open wound, down his side, for the rest of his life, where she had been ripped from him. How can he live without her? He cannot. It is like asking the heart to live without the lungs, like tearing the moon out of the sky and asking the stars to do its work, like expecting the barley to grow without rain.

He feels again the sensation he has had all his life: that she is the other side to him, that they fit together, him and her, like two halves of a walnut. That without her he is incomplete, lost.

How easy is it, Agnes thinks, as she lifts the plates, to
miss the pain and anguish of one person, if that person keeps quiet, if he keeps it all in, like a bottle stoppered too tightly, the pressure inside building and building, until - what?