Adverbs

Someone can break your heart, leave you dead on the lawn, and still you never learn what to say to stop it all over again.

How do you forget something? You just walk away from it, those who are still alive. There are so few clearings in our hearts and minds, so few places where something can't grow on top of whatever happened to us before, and this is love too.

They looked at each other like a pair of parentheses.

This is love, to sit with someone you've known forever in a place you've been meaning to go, and watching as their life happens to them until you stand up and it's time to go.

It is not the diamonds or the birds, the people or the potatoes; it is not any of the nouns. The miracle is the adverbs, the way things are done. It is the way love gets done despite every catastrophe.

So she loved him. She just did immediately and again often and clearly naturally and soundly and obviously and many others.

I have a dream of what would have happened if what happened instead hadn't.

I want to love you and take you pretty places. Yes, I have things wrong, but also I can walk through walls if you'll let me show you.

Love is candy from a stranger, but it's candy you've had before and it probably won't kill you.

They say love's like a bus, and if you wait long enough another one will come along, but not in this place where the buses are slow and most of the cute ones are gay.

You meet people who are in pain in life and love and you forgive them for behaving the way they do.

The window rattles without you, you bastard. The trees are the cause, rattling in the wind, you jerk, the wind scraping those leaves and twigs against my window. They'll keep doing this, you terrible husband, and slowly wear away our entire apartment building. I know all these facts about you and there is no longer any use for them. What will I do with your license plate number, and where you hid the key outside so we'd never get locked out of this shaky building? What good does it do me, your pants size and the blue cheese preference for dressing? Who opens the door in the morning now, and takes the newspaper out of the plastic bag when it rains? I'll never get back all the hours I was nice to your parents. I nudge my cherry tomatoes to the side of the plate, bastard, but no one is waiting there with a fork to eat them. I miss you and I love you, bastard bastard bastard, come and clean the onion skins out of the crisper and trim back the tree so I can sleep at night.

Love was in the air, so both of us walked through love on our way to the corner.

After a certain age, you couldn't even say where you were from. You went someplace, and lived there. And then you went someplace else.

Love can smack you like a seagull, and pour all over your feet like junk mail.

But there was more, as there always is when the love goes. She was haunted, naturally. Otherwise what is the point, why leave your rickety house, and why this yo-yo world giving us things and yanking them back?

The clock in his car hadn't adjusted to daylight saving time yet and said it was four-fifteen when it was really five-fifteen. Peter probably didn't have time to fiddle with it, or it was tricky, as car clocks are. I didn't mind. You can't mind these things, you just can't, for to dislike what makes a person human is to dislike all humans, or at least other people who can't work clocks. You have to love the whole person, if you are truly in love. If you are going to take a lifelong journey with somebody, you can't mind if the other person believes they are leaving for that journey an hour earlier than you, as long as truly, in the real world, you are both leaving at exactly the same time.

This is love if it's not with you, a terrible fiery something that makes people look away, and it feels like a punch in the throat.

Once more, this is love: it rings and you open up unless it looks like an ax murderer.

We need things, and the opposite of them, and we are so rarely completely comfortable.

And when love is over when the diner of love seems closed from the outside you want all those hours back along with anything you left at the lover’s house and maybe a couple of things which aren’t technically yours on the grounds that you wasted a portion of your life and those hours have all gone southside.

They say that when you’re really in love, the world becomes gossamer and gorgeous, but in my experience the world gets grimy, and the love object is in stark relief from the surroundings. This is love, a pretty thing on an ugly street.

Help me,' Allison says, but she is soft-spoken, and everyone she loves is so far away.

It’s not the makeup and it’s not the way that you dance and this is like love too where there’s only one dancer who will win your contest that night and they are not particularly the best one

I want you to love me in particular.

You're a ghost! Eddie cried. You're empty and you have nothing inside you.

You can’t mind these things, you just can’t, for to dislike what makes a person human is to dislike all humans.

The movie was kickass, which was appropriate, because tonight it was called Kickass: The Movie.