I suspect the most we can hope for, and it's no small hope, is that we never give up,
that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love.
It interests me how we find ways to feel superior to another person, another group of people. It happens everywhere, and all the time. Whatever we call it, I think it’s the lowest part of who we are, this need to find someone else to put down.
You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind.
Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful? Most likely not. People mostly did not know enough when they were living life that they were living it.
She didn't like to be alone. Even more, she didn't like being with people.
Lonely was the first flavor I had tasted in my life, and it was always there, hidden inside the crevices of my mouth, reminding me.
You will have only one story, she had said. You’ll write your one story many ways. Don’t ever worry about story. You have only one.
He wanted to put his arms around her, but she had a darkness that seemed to stand beside her like an acquaintance that would not go away.