“Does he make you see stars?’ he asks in a low voice. ‘Does he call you his north star? Because that’s what you are to me. You’re the reason I made it home.”
“Does he tell you that you’re all
he thinks about? Does he tell you that he lives for you?
That he breathes for you? That he dreams of you every
damn moment, awake and asleep? Does he tell you any
of that?’ He pauses to look at me and I try to keep a blank
face. ‘No, I didn’t think so,’ he says quietly.”
“I think you still love me,’ he says, ‘even though you don’t want to.’
I glare at him, fury battling my instincts.
‘Because that kind of love, Jessa,’ Kit continues, ‘doesn’t just disappear. It doesn’t just fade. I still love you. I’ll always love you. And I think you feel the same way about me. And hell, I know I don’t deserve it. I know all I deserve is your hatred. But if there’s a chance, a single chance that you might still love me, then I’m not going to throw it away. Because I’ve been through hell and you’re the only reason I’m still standing.’ He pauses. ‘So tell me the truth. Do you love him?”
“Come back to me," I whisper.
"Always," he answers, kissing me for the last time.”
“You've been waiting in the bushes for half an hour just to speak to me?"
Kit shrugs. "I've done sniper training. I can sit for hours in the dark, waiting and watching."
"That's comforting." I say. "And not creepy in the slightest.”
“I don’t believe you,’ he says. He takes a step towards me, fluster-ing me with his nearness, with his smell, which shouldn’t be so damn familiar after so much time and which shouldn’t still affect me the way it does. ‘I think you still love me,’ he says, ‘even though you don’t want to.’I glare at him, fury battling my instincts. ‘Because that kind of love, Jessa,’ Kit continues, ‘doesn’t just disappear. It doesn’t just fade. I still love you. I’ll always love you. And I think you feel the same way about me. And hell, I know I don’t deserve it. I know all I deserve is your hatred. But if there’s a chance, a single chance that you might still love me, then I’m not going to throw it away. Because I’ve been through hell and you’re the only reason I’m still standing.’ He pauses. ‘So tell me the truth. Do you love him?’I don’t answer. ‘Does he know you like I do? Does he know exactly how you like your eggs in the morning – just a little bit runny?’ he asks. ‘Does he know that you’re allergic to roses? Does he know that when your nostrils flare like that it’s because you’re trying to stop from crying and that when you say “yeah, sure” it usually means “no”?’ He takes a step nearer. ‘Does he make you see stars?’ he asks in a low voice. ‘Does he call you his north star? Because that’s what you are to me. You’re the reason I made it home.’ I squeeze my eyes shut. ‘Does he know exactly where to kiss you?’ Kit mur-murs and startles me by brushing his hand just beneath my ear. ‘Just here?’ My eyes flash open as I suppress a shudder. ‘Does he know exactly how to touch you?’ he asks, his gaze falling to my mouth. ‘Does he tell you that you’re all he thinks about? Does he tell you that he lives for you? That he breathes for you? That he dreams of you every damn moment, awake and asleep? Does he tell you any of that?’ He pauses to look at me and I try to keep a blank face. ‘No, I didn’t think so,’ he says quietly”
“Dear Jessa, I’ve started this letter so many times and I’ve never been able to finish it. So here goes again . . . I’m sorry. I’m sorry that Riley is dead. I’m sorry for ignoring your emails and for not being there for you. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish it had been me that died and not Riley. If I could go back in time and change everything I would. I’m sorry I left without a word. There’s no excuse for my behaviour but please know that it had nothing to do with you. I was a mess. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone for months. And I felt too guilty and didn’t know how to tell you the truth about what happened. I couldn’t bear the thought of you knowing. I got all your emails but I didn’t read them until last week. I couldn’t face it and I guess that makes me the biggest coward you’ll ever meet. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never replied. You needed me and I wasn’t there for you. I don’t even know how to ask your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I’m just glad you’re doing better. I’m better too. I’ve started seeing a therapist – twice a week – you’d like her. She reminds me of Didi. I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who needed therapy, but they made it a condition of me keeping my job. She’s helped me a lot with getting the panic attacks under control. Working in a room the size of a janitor’s closet helps too – there aren’t too many surprises, only the occasional rogue paperclip. I asked for the posting. I have to thank your dad ironically. The demotion worked out. Kind of funny that I totally get where your father was coming from all those years. Looks like I’ll be spending the remainder of my marine career behind a desk, but I’m OK with that. I don’t know what else to say, Jessa. My therapist says I should just write down whatever comes into my head. So here goes. Here’s what’s in my head . . . I miss you. I love you. Even though I long ago gave up the right to any sort of claim over you, I can’t stop loving you. I won’t ever stop. You’re in my blood. You’re the only thing that got me through this, Jessa. Because even during the bad times, the worst times, the times I’d wake up in a cold sweat, my heart thumping, the times I’d think the only way out was by killing myself and just having it all go away, I’d think of you and it would pull me back out of whatever dark place I’d fallen into. You’re my light, Jessa. My north star. You asked me once to come back to you and I told you I always would. I’m working on it. It might take me a little while, and I know I have no right to ask you to wait for me after everything I’ve done, but I’m going to anyway because the truth is I don’t know how to live without you. I’ve tried and I can’t do it. So please, I’m asking you to wait for me. I’m going to come back to you. I promise. And I’m going to make things right. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll never stop trying for the rest of my life to make things right between us. I love you. Always. Kit”
“Are you mine?’ he murmurs. ‘Always,’ I answer as his lips find mine.”
“I'm going to inform her father from a separate state, maybe even from a separate continent. And I'll still be sure to wear a bullet-proof best because that man has connections.”
“Does he call you his north star? Because that’s what you are to me. You’re the reason I made it home.”
“I mean . . . Fuck, Jessa. If you ask me do I want you to be waiting for me the day I get off the plane? Yes. Do I want to talk to you every night on the phone and know that you’re my girl and that I’m coming home to you? Yes. Am I going to be thinking of you every single moment while I’m gone – yes. But it’s not fair on you asking you to wait.”
“Once a marine, always a marine,’ he tells me. ‘And marines never god-damn quit.”
“What about you? Are you doing what you love?’He looks across at me before turning back to the road. ‘I was,’ he says. ‘And now?’ I ask in a whisper, because that’s all I can manage. ‘Now, I have to leave you”
“Do you come here often?' I ask. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. Way to go, Kit. Make it sound like you’re trying to pick him up, why don’t you?”
“Come back to me," I whisper.
"Always," he answers, kissing me for the last time.”
“Do you love him?’ he asks, startling me all over again. ‘If you honestly love him, I’ll walk away. I won’t ever bother you again,’ he says.”
“Because it wouldn’t have been fair to you,’ I say. ‘And then, selfishly, I knew that if I slept with you, then for the whole of the next year on post I would never have been able to get you out of my mind. I’d have just relived it over and over every second of every day. Which is what I’m going to be doing now anyway.’ I laugh ruefully at how much I’m going to replay this night. ‘But I would have been picturing some other lucky guy getting to have you, getting to come back to you every night. I didn’t want that. It would have been torture. To know you, to make love to you, and then lose you. I couldn’t do it.”
“What do you want?’ I hiss.
‘I want you,’ he answers.”
“But it's not Kit's physique that I'm talking about. It's the way he is, the confidence he has that is beyond his years. He speaks softly-I've never seen him lose his temper or shout-and when he walks into a room, It's like he's a magnet and everything, including the air, is drawn to him. Although I know he can strip an automatic weapon in under ten seconds and is trained to lea d men in battle, I've also seen him siniging lullabies to his baby nieces while he cradles them in his arms, and jump off a pier to save a drowning dog.”
“Yeah?’ Kit asks tersely. He glances over Todd’s shoul-der at me. ‘Do you love him?’ he asks me, nodding his head at Todd. The directness of the question stuns me. My mouth falls open. What the . . . ? ‘Do you love him?’ he demands again. ‘Kit, it’s none of your business,’ I stammer, feeling the weight of Todd’s gaze on me. ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘It’s none of my business. I have no right to ask you − I get that − but you need to speak to me. If you send me away, I’m just going to keep coming back until you do.”
“It's decided then. I'm just going to lie here and have a little pity party for myself because who spends the night of their eighteenth birthday alone in their bedroom playing Angry Birds on a phone where the settings are all in Arabic, wearing a heart-shaped locket their mom gave them? Oh yeah, that's right, someone with no life. And no prospect of ever getting one.”
“I’ve never felt this way before, Jessa,’ he says. ‘I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“IHe twists a strand of my hair around his finger. "I can braid hair too."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You can braid hair?"
"Oh yeah. French braids, normal braids, you name it.”
“He glances over Todd's shoulder at me. "Do you love him?" he asks me, nodding his head at Todd.
...
"Do you love him." He demands again.
"Kit, it's none of your business."...
"Fine," he says, "It's none of my business. I have no right to ask you - I get that - but you need to speak to me. If you send me away, I'm just going to keep coming back until you do.”
“I think that if advice is good it's the best comfort.”
“Charleston has a landscape that encourages intimacy and partisanship. I have heard it said that an inoculation to the sights and smells of the Carolina lowcountry is an almost irreversible antidote to the charms of other landscapes, other alien geographies. You can be moved profoundly by other vistas, by other oceans, by soaring mountain ranges, but you can never be seduced. You can even forsake the lowcountry, renounce it for other climates, but you can never completely escape the sensuous, semitropical pull of Charleston and her marshes.”
“It's the pool where we all go down to drink, to swim, to catch a little fish from the edge of the shore; it's also the pool where some hardy souls go out in their flimsy wooden boats after the big ones. It is the pool of life, the cup of imagination, and she has an idea that different people see different versions of it, but with two things ever in common: it's always about a mile deep in the Fairy Forest, and it's always sad. Because imagination isn't the only thing this place is about.”
“Because she’s Acheron companion. (Astrid)
Ash has a companion? (Zarek)
(The demon snorted. She stood up and whispered loudly in Astrid’s ear.)
Dark-Hunters are cute, but very stupid. (Simi)”
“But I love him. You know it. You can't ask me to just sit back and let Paul do this. If he succeeds I won't even remember having met Jesse." "Right," my dad said reasonably. "So it won't hurt." "It will," I insisted, "It will hurt, Dad. Because deep down I'll know. I'll know there was someone… someone I was supposed to have met. Only I'll never meet him. I'll go through my whole life waiting for him to come along, only he never will. What kind of life is that, Dad, huh? What kind of life is that?”
BookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.
We thoughtfully gather quotes from our favorite books, both classic and current, and choose the ones that are most thought-provoking. Each quote represents a book that is interesting, well written and has potential to enhance the reader’s life. We also accept submissions from our visitors and will select the quotes we feel are most appealing to the BookQuoters community.
Founded in 2023, BookQuoters has quickly become a large and vibrant community of people who share an affinity for books. Books are seen by some as a throwback to a previous world; conversely, gleaning the main ideas of a book via a quote or a quick summary is typical of the Information Age but is a habit disdained by some diehard readers. We feel that we have the best of both worlds at BookQuoters; we read books cover-to-cover but offer you some of the highlights. We hope you’ll join us.