Sometimes it's more generous to take than give, he said. "How?" Caroline asked. "To let the other person give you what he has to offer. If you're always the one giving, you never have to feel disappointed, because you don't expect anything in return. But it's miserly in its own way. Because you never leave yourself open or give the other person a chance."
never judge anyone by their appearance, or the car they drive, or the house they live in, or even by the words they say. judge people by their actions. that's how you know whether they're bad or good." - perfect Summer"
Hugh had been her obsession. When he was away, she had assumed he was with other women. It drove her crazy, dominated her thoughts. She had tried to concentrate on her daughters, but her own insecurity was much too huge. When Skye would beg for a story or Clea would need help with her music lessons, Augusta would tell them to ask Caroline. So Augusta could be with Hugh.
The patients there were mostly teenaged girls, with the occasional boy. I thought of us all as tigers with thorns in our paws. We were beautiful beasts who'd gotten injured by life, by loss or trauma or shock, and if we could just get the splinters out of our paws, we'd be fine. My thorn was the fact that my mother had left me. Megan
Conhecia a natureza do corpo humano: que era formado por 97 por cento de agua. Que as suas veias continham agua salgada, tal como os afluentes sujeitos as mares. Que uma vez por mes, bem, antes da gravidez, o ciclo do seu corpo ecoava o movimento da Lua nas mares dos oceanos
Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other. "Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. "Now there is no more loneliness; now you are two persons but there is only one life before you. "Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your life together. "And may your days be good and long upon the earth and in heaven."
She found the combination intriguing. Because there were three, at all times two sisters holding hands would be facing the same direction. And one would be facing a different way. No matter how you looked at it, two would always be united. And one would be separate. But which two? And which one?
Drunk or just drinking, Skye had passed many hours trying not to think about the hunt, about the gun and Andrew Lockwood, about any of it. She had drunk to get loaded, to get wasted, to get happy, to get sad, because she loved the taste, because she was against killing animals, because her husband liked rough sex, because she had nightmares about snakes under her tent, because her father had stopped loving her, because she hated Swan Lake, ..
Well, I left him in my room so my mother wouldn't see him." " 'Cause you hadn't convinced her to let you keep him yet," Mark said reasonably. "Did you leave the cats to keep him company?" "Yes," Augusta said. "And did they become best friends?" Maripat asked, happily sensing the end of the story. "No," Augusta said, knowing she was in too deep. "He ate them."
What about Tiny?" Maripat asked shyly. "Well, I left him in my room so my mother wouldn't see him." " 'Cause you hadn't convinced her to let you keep him yet," Mark said reasonably. "Did you leave the cats to keep him company?" "Yes," Augusta said. "And did they become best friends?" Maripat asked, happily sensing the end of the story. "No," Augusta said, knowing she was in too deep. "He ate them."
Cat limbs all over the floor, chewed to the bone." "Mew-Mew, Licorice!" Maripat cried. Tearfully, Augusta told them about Tiny grinning at the end of Augusta's bed, covered with blood. His little tongue hanging out, a demoniacal mask on his face, his fangs dripping with blood as he sprang for her throat just before she slammed the door shut."
She upset the kids. She told them a really awful story about a pet she had when she was little." "How bad could a pet story be?" "Well," Clea said, knowing this fell in the "only in our family" category, "it eviscerated her cats and could have killed my mother in her sleep. I'd say that's good for a few nightmares, wouldn't you?"
EVERYONE THOUGHT QUINN was watching Meet the Press with Grandma, even Grandma. Lying on the sofa, covered with an afghan, Quinn had simply rolled off and stuffed pillows under the covers while Grandma stared at the screen. Then she had sidled upstairs, out her bedroom window, and down the oak tree growing right by the house.
The log stretched across the stream. It had been there for some time. Sticks, feathers, and debris had caught on stray branches protruding from one end. The stream flowed beneath the log, lazy and blackish-green, just before it widened and joined the Connecticut River. Pine trees grew thick along one bank, while reeds whispered along the other.
Jane put her hand on the calendar, as if she could take those days right in through her skin, her pores, into her blood and bones, hold them forever. But time didn't work that way. Time was all about the present. It was where you were and what you were doing, in any given moment, that gave life its meaning.
But we don't always go to church" -Emily "Caring about people doesn't just take place there. It's how you act out in the world, when no one is looking, where it really counts" -Dad"
But her life on this earth had taught her this: that love, in the end, was all that mattered. Friends, families, suitors, husbands: Goodness abounded in all of them.
liked the way Jane smiled at her--as if Jane was looking for and seeing the very best in Chloe. Not like teachers, always correcting you, trying to improve you, and not like parents, just waiting for you to do the next wrong thing, so they could shake their heads and let you know how disappointed they were in you. . . .
We're keeping them alive," she said. "Sweetheart, the fence, the wall, is inhumane. People are dying." "That's their choice,"he actually said. "They come here illegally, that's the chance they take." "When did you get so hard?" she asked, holding his face between her hands. "They're human beings like us, looking for a better life for their families. You understand that, don't you? You did it for us." "It's a humanitarian crises," she said. ..
without him--I wasn't sure I could go on breathing. But I did." "I know," Sylvie said. "It was because I loved him," Jane said. "And that's what love does. It takes hold of you so hard . . . takes hold of your breath. Your heart, your pulse, your thoughts, everything."