“I love you, Em. I've loved you since I was eight years old, and I'll love you my whole life.”
“I remember who you are. Even if you forget.”
“Hush. Listen now. I need to say a couple of mom things.
Listen, because this is important. Eat more- you're getting too skinny. And smile. Oh, and don't believe anyone who says they'll pay you back later; they never do.
And one more thing, I have never loved one single thing in my life more than you. You were worth living for, and Ember, you were worth dying for.”
“Chase Jennings, I love you. I love the boy you were and the man that you've become and even when I don't like you at all I still love you because you are you, kind safe and good, because you understand me and are not afraid.”
“I got almost eighteen years with you. The best eighteen years of my life.”
“You didn't lose everything."
"Neither did you.”
“He cleared his throat, fixing his eyes on the road. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
All the hard edges within me had shimmered and gone soft.
"You said I was beautiful."
He smirked and settled back in his seat. "I guess I did.”
“Let's see that wrist."
I held it out, and Chase's jaw tightened.
"Look at that!" the medic shouted, staring over my shoulder behind us. The moment I turned my head he grabbed my hand and jerked it toward him, hard.
A crack as the bones in my wrist realigned.”
“Hope made you infinitely more devastated in the face of disappointment.”
“Risks weren't so risky when you had no one to lose.”
“I hated the distance between us. It left me unsettled, unbalanced. Like the good parts of myself were fading.”
“His pain hurt me in a way I'd never felt before. It was worse than my own pain. My strength wavered. I felt completely powerless.”
“knowing that history carried itself in the body and soul, not a physical location, not in letters burned in a fire or a magazine trapped beneath the rubble,”
“Wallace was trying to find out his identity so that we might protect him, but I didn’t like the idea of bringing such a high-profile criminal back to the Wayland Inn. Not when the MM was on a manhunt.”
“That traditional family values and a streamlined faith would restore our country to greatness.”
“Questa è la fattoria Hale.
Ecco la vecchia stalla per la mungitura, l’entrata buia che dice Vieni a cercarmi.
Ecco la banderuola, la catasta di legna.
Ecco la casa, echeggiante di storie.
È presto. Il falco vola lento nel cielo sgombro. Una sottile piuma blu volteggia nel vuoto. L’aria è fredda, limpida. La casa è silenziosa, come la cucina, il divano di velluto blu, la piccola tazza da tè bianca.
Da sempre la fattoria canta per noi, le sue famiglie perdute, i suoi soldati e le mogli. Durante la guerra, quando arrivarono con le baionette, entrando con la forza, gli stivali infangati sulle scale. Patrioti. Banditi. Mariti. Padri. Dormivano nei letti freddi. Razziavano la cantina in cerca di barattoli di pesche sciroppate e barbabietole da zucchero. Accendevano grandi fuochi nel campo, e le fiamme si contorcevano, schioccando alte verso il cielo. Fuochi che ridevano. Le facce calde brillavano e le mani erano in tasca, al riparo. Arrostivano un maiale e strappavano la carne dolce e rosea dall’osso. Dopo, si succhiavano via il grasso dalle dita, un sapore familiare, strano.
Ce ne sono stati altri – molti – che hanno rubato, smantellato e saccheggiato. Perfino i tubi di rame, perfino le mattonelle di ceramica. Quello che potevano prendere, prendevano. Hanno lasciato solo i muri, i pavimenti spogli. Il cuore pulsante in cantina.
Noi aspettiamo. Siamo pazienti. Aspettiamo notizie. Aspettiamo che ci venga detto qualcosa. Il vento sta provando a farlo. Gli alberi ondeggiano. È la fine di qualcosa; lo sentiamo. Presto sapremo.”
“Wherever you are in your journey, I hope you, too, will keep encountering challenges. It is a blessing to be able to survive them, to be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other—to be in a position to make the climb up life’s mountain, knowing that the summit still lies ahead. And every experience is a valuable teacher.”
“is how we were before, and how we are now,”
“Пийте си кафето, какво сте зяпнали, не само вие сте била влюбена.”
“I thought about how this banknote had witnessed a moment of each one of those people’s lives. Maybe it had been at the scene of a murder, then passed from the murderer to a shopkeeper somewhere, then to a good person somewhere else.”
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