A happy ending is just the place where you choose to stop telling the story.
Leah StewartThat's just how it is, you know," she said. "Women always choose men over other women.
Leah StewartSo Sonia was not my only or even my first best friend. She was the last. It wasn t that I hadn t made friends since just that I thought myself past the age of that particular kind of friendship. Adult friendship doesn t grant you an exclusive isn t meant to be ranked above romance and family. I couldn t imagine ever living that moment again when you say with a shy and hopeful pride You re my best friend. The other person says it back and there you have chosen each other out of everyone else in the world.
Leah StewartMots clés friendship
Here was the secret of this house, the thing it took bravery to face -- that to go on loving someone means to over and over again allow the necessary pain.
Leah StewartA happy ending isn't really the end. It's just the place where you choose to stop telling the story.
Leah StewartOnce you know the end of the story, every part of the story contains that end, and is only a way of reaching it.
Leah StewartWill and I will walk along the beach in Gloucester, and I'll hear him shout over the wind, "Cameron, let's go home," and I'll know that this is what you live for --to hear someone say, "Let's go home," to hear someone you love call your name.
Leah StewartMy father once told me that a happy ending is just the place where you choose to stop telling the story. So this is where I choose to stop. More things are still going to happen, of course, some good, some bad. Some things never get any better. When people die they stay dead. None of us knows why we love, or why we stop loving, or why everyone we love we lose.
Leah StewartI was going to click my heels and go home, where life would be, as it is anywhere, a little bit dull Knasas, a little bit great and terrible Oz. I just wanted to stand here for a minute, first, and fix in my memory the life I wasn't choosing, the way Rajiv looked at me before I told him I was leaving, the cottonwood snow.
Nathan watched me, an uncertain look on his perfectly, terribly familiar face.
"Are you ready?" he said
The thing is, you make choices. You do some things and you don't do others and in the end there's not much point in asking what different choices might have gained you, and lost you, unless you have a time machine. You become those choices, you embody them...
I'd known I couldn't stay, just as I'd known years before I couldn't be with him, even as I'd gone on pretending I had a choice. I was who I was, and I wanted what I already had.
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