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Leaving goodreads in 2026. Find me on StoryGraph @hearthcraftandhardcovers

Love - as it is in the wild, no fingerprints on the glass - knows nothing of time. If you were lucky enough for your first fall to be in love and not loss, you might get what I’m talking about. The pure stuff, like flying before you look down. Like learning the body you thought you had to fill all by yourself actually came with an extension; that neither worked alone, but together - bam, all the lights come on.

“She couldn’t remember the last time she let herself feel the contentment in sadness. She never let her own sadness bloom enough to produce that particular fruit.”

“Gender is a shell game. What is a man? Whatever a woman isn’t. What is a woman? Whatever a man is not. Tap on it and it’s hollow. Look under the shells: it’s not there.”

One of them says, “Why did they do it?”
And the other answers, “Because they could.”
And that is the only answer there ever was.