If you think a story can be like a kind of cement, the sloppy kind that you put between bricks, the kind that looks like cake frosting before it dries hard, then maybe I thought it would be possible to use what Toby had to hold Finn together, to keep him here with me a little bit longer.
Carol Rifka BruntThat's the secret. If you always make sure you're exactly the person you hoped to be, if you always make sure you know only the very best people, then you won't care if you die tomorrow.
Carol Rifka BruntTags: death-and-dying
Maybe you had to be dying to finally get to do what you wanted.
I fidgeted around with the puzzle pieces for a while longer, but I wasn't lucky. Nothing seemed to fit without a whole lot of work.
Then I had this thought: What if it was enough to realize that you would die someday, that none of this would go on forever? Would that be enough?
Tags: choices dying philosophy-of-life
I had no idea how greedy my heart really was.
Carol Rifka BruntThe bed was warm and ordinary and perfect, and it had been such a long, long day. Probably the longest day of my life. I felt like I had proof that not all days are the same length, not all time has the same weight. Proof that there are worlds and worlds and worlds on top of worlds, if you want them to be there.
Carol Rifka BruntWatching people is a good hobby, but you have to be careful about it. You can’t let people catch you staring at them. If people catch you, they treat you like a first-class criminal. And maybe they’re right to do that. Maybe it should be a crime to try to see things about people they don’t want you to see.
Carol Rifka BruntI don’t like to overhear things, because, in my experience, things your parents are keeping quiet about are things you don’t want to know.
Carol Rifka BruntI thought of all the different kinds of love in the world. I could think of ten without even trying. The way parents love their kids, the way you love a puppy or chocolate ice cream or home or your favorite book or your sister. Or your uncle. There's those kinds of love and then there's the other kind. The falling kind.
Carol Rifka BruntYou think I don't know about wrong love, June? You think I don't understand embarrassing love?
Carol Rifka BruntTags: love
There was a flicker of something in Greta's look. I couldn't tell whether it was a flicker of love or regret or meanness.
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