I had a dream about you last night. We moved into a cabin in the countryside. I couldn't handle the spiders. You couldn't handle my drama. I moved back to the city.
I had a dream about you last night... you were crying over spilt ink screaming "the words, the what could have been beautiful words.
Then I kissed Max because I loved him, and everyone I had ever loved before had gone away and I had never kissed them goodbye.
She had needed the time to know that this love would not destroy her, and I had, I now knew, given her that time, could give it, for it was what I had in great supply.
Life had called his name, and without thinking, he had stepped forward. He wondered if perhaps he was becoming the person he had always wanted to be.
Those eyes had seen people weep, and had cared, and had hurt them again anyway. It’s a look that no human eyes should ever have.
Maybe the hardened clay was not as ugly as I had thought. Maybe what I resented was the color my father had painted me. The time had come to sand away some of that dreadful stain.
What a failure her life had been. Would she have lied to God if she’d had more faith, been more righteous? How could she possibly have a son at her age? And yet, if she had believed all along . . .
I cried because I had no wallet, until I met a man who had no money. I don’t know why he had no money, because that man stole my wallet.
If you had to pack your whole life into a suitcase-not just the practical things, like clothing, but the memories of the people you had lost and the girl you had once been-what would you take?
I understood that as much as I had resisted the outside, as much as I had constricted my life, as much as I had closed and narrowed the channels into me, there were still many takers for the quiet heart.
I had come with such pain and labour to a place where emptiness had arrived before me. I was too late, something black and hollow had overtaken me and wriggled through the door.
Well, you finally got me," Helen had whispered to him, tearfully, but Garp had sprawled there, on his back on the wrestling mat, wondering who had gotten whom.
Her one drink had Cecelia giggling and talking and she was explaining that animals had souls too. Nobody challenged her opinion. It was possible, we knew. What we weren't sure of was if we had any.
I had a dream about you. I was a cat. You were a red dot. And even those times I caught you, we couldn't touch. But still I chased you anyway.
I had a dream about you. We sold love like a couple of roadside lemonade-stand vendors. Your love was organic, and mine was made with yellow tennis balls.
I had a dream about you. We were riding a beam of light to the edge of the galaxy. Then my flashlight battery went dead and Stephen Hawking’s robot voice said “game over.
I had a dream about you coming up with non sequiturs. You were a purple giraffe and I was an orange rhino. But we were eating liquid skittles.
I had a dream about you, you gave me a plant and sweetly said "This will grow with our love" upon handing it over to me the plant died. I started packing.
I had a dream about you making balloon animals for kids. You were out of balloons and the kids were out of patience, so you inflated their imaginations instead.
I had a dream about you. We were trying to come up with a hashtag to market our relationship. I suggested #fourlipsonekiss and #twomouthsonevoice, but you went with something confusing like #idontloveyou and #wearenotinarelationship.
