Sometimes the things we want to say the most are the things that should never be said.
Megan HartTags: elle-and-dan
But it was the man beside me who'd proven to me that love was worth everything. That my life, my heart, had room in it for more love that I ever thought possible. There were dozens of reasons to agree to have a child, but as far as I was concerned, just then, with his breath on my face and the warmth of his skin on mine, there was only one that mattered. Love. That was reason enough.
Megan HartTears disturb and confuse men, but women know the relief they can bring. I didn't cry because I couldn't deal with my life, but because I could.
Megan HartI've been hit on plenty of times, mostly by men with little finesse who thought what was between their legs made up for what they lacked between their ears.
Megan HartSometimes when you break things, you can hold them together for a while with string or glue or tape. Sometimes, nothing will hold what's broken, and the pieces fly all over, and though you think you might be able to find them all again, one or two will always be missing
Megan HartSo, you work with Marcy?” Wayne earned points for what appeared to be sincere interest.
“Yes. She’s in public accounting and I’m in corporate, but we both work for the same company.”
Wayne grinned. “Me, I’m in murders and executions.”
“Wayne!” Marcy rolled her eyes. “He means—”
“Mergers and acquisitions. I got it.
Right and wrong, good and bad, the lines are blurred when it comes to matters of the heart. Anyone who has never felt that has no right to judge, and anyone who ever has won't have to.
Megan HartTags: love
Will cries out, low, a murmur of blue and green and gold. The syllables of my name float between us. I’ve never seen my name that way, in those colors, not from any other voice.
Megan HartTags: megan-hart tear-you-apart
Naveen: Oh, come on. Throw a guy a bone.
Elisabeth: Are you a dog?
Naveen: Are you a bitch?
That was how we became friends.
The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.
Megan HartTags: love poem ink synaesthesia
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