“Everybody works . . . . That's what life is. Work and a little play and a lot of prayer.”
“If two people love the same thing, she reasoned, then they must love each other, at least a little, even if they never say it.”
“In the end, it's only the moments that we have, the kiss on the palm, the joint wonder at the furrowed texture of a fir trunk or at the infinitude of grains of sand in a dune. Only the moments.”
“Work is love made plain, whether man’s work or woman’s work.”
“How love builds itself unconsciously, he thought, out of the momentous ordinary.”
“In the end, it's only the moments that we have.”
“People who would be that close to her, she thought, a matter of a few arms' lengths, looking, looking, and they would never know her.”
“The winsome lilt of Digna humming in the garden. Her knowing, almost teasing look, not quite a smile, when she knew she had the upper hand about something, and his willing acquiescence. Her coaxing in the dark next to him - What was your favorite part of the day? - to which he'd always say, because he always thought it - now, touching you. He'd feel the lump of truth form in his throat, the swell of love in his loins. And afterward, the peace of her rhythmic breathing, steady as a Frisian clock, her simple uncomposed lullaby. Those are things he would, in some final, stretched-out moment, relive. How love builds itself unconsciously, he thought, out of the momentous ordinary.”
“The painting showed she did not yet know that lives end abruptly, that much of living is repetition and separation, that buttons forever need re-sewing no matter how ferociously one works the thread, that nice things almost happen.”
“No one but another painter could know the delicacy required to balance the complexities, to keep reality at bay in order to remain in the innermost center of his work.”
“Now he knew . . . that there was nothing so vital as paying attention, and perfecting the humble offices of love.”
“She thought of all the people in all the paintings she had seen that day, not just Father's, in all the paintings of the world, in fact. Their eyes, the particular turn of a head, their loneliness or suffering or grief was borrowed by an artist to be seen by other people throughout the years who would never see them face to face. People who would be that close to her, she thought, a matter of a few arms' lengths, looking, looking, and they would never know her.”
“It was strange: When you reduced even a fledgling love affair to its essentials - I loved her, she maybe loved me, I was foolish, I suffered - it became vacuous and trite, meaningless to anyone else. In the end, it's only the moments that we have, the kiss on the palm, the joint wonder at the furrowed texture of a fir trunk or at the infinitude of grains of sand in a dune. Only the moments.”
“I came to see that knowing what love isn't might be just as valuable, though infinitely less satisfying, as knowing what it is.”
“She was a desperate woman with frailties just like her, temptations just like her, a woman who had needs, a woman who loved almost to the point of there being no more her anymore, a woman who probably cried too much, just like her, a woman afraid, wanting to believe rather than believing [...]”
“The only place Aletta and I could be together unseen was just under the rafters in the church tower, a circumstance that propelled us into an earlier intimacy than what we would have known had we been permitted to walk together Sunday afternoons under the wide sky.”
“Happiness is an effect of doing what you love; not an end goal to be achieved.” Bernard Tristan Foong”
“Well, what do you want me to say?' The Doctor was so angry he was almost hovering. 'Well done on marrying the only male nurse not to have a full set of Barbara Streisand records? Why did you pick him, anyway? Were there no flight attendants in your village?'
'Only Jeff,' [Amy replied].
'Ah.'...
'I picked Rory, always Rory, because he is just like you,' I [Amy] yelled at him. 'He is sweet and understanding and funny and he always tries to do the right thing. Plus you both run the same way.'
'We do not.'
'Do so.”
“The girls’ door opened, and like every other time I’d seen her, it felt like I’d gotten punched in the gut, all the air in my body leaving in one heavy rush. Rachel really was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. There was no doubting that. With long, dark hair; eyes so blue I’d found myself trying to see if she was wearing colored contacts—she wasn’t, by the way; and a soft smile that made me want to fall to my knees, it wasn’t hard to see why I couldn’t stop looking at her. And those legs. My eyes traveled down to her bare legs as she let Mason into their apartment and I subconsciously started sucking on my lip ring again. Dear God, those legs were freakin’ long and perfect . . . and headed right toward me. My”
“Sometimes what seems like surrender isn't surrender at all. It's about what's going on in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the pain of not being true to it is far, far greater.' Nicholas Evans, The Horse Whisperer.”
“An assassin with serial killer tendencies. I became the best. It wasn’t a matter of conceit. It was fact. An uncontested truth. I was the best because I enjoyed what I did.”
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