“To love someone so deeply means also that it will hurt a thousand times more when he disappoints or leaves you”
“He never leaves my side.
And I know he never will.”
“I believe there’s someone out there for everyone,” he {Isaac} says, “and when you meet that person, sometimes you know right away they are who you were meant to be with. And sometimes, years can go by before you let yourself believe that the feeling you’ve had about a person for so long, is actually love. And what a waste that is.”
“And when someone grows up knowing so little of what real love feels like, whether from family, or friends, or the love of a companion, that person starts to believe that they weren’t meant to be loved, that good things will never happen to them. They start to believe that whenever something good does happen, it’s inevitable that something bad will come along to replace it.”
“I really would like to know how you managed to snag that one,” she adds, watching Isaac approach us from the parking lot. “Does he have a brother? Seriously -- I’ll take his second cousin.”
“Because a storm is coming and I need to be prepared before it gets here.”
“Wait, it's going to fall," I say, pointing to the banner. "Pull it tighter-there, yeah, see how loose it is?"
"A little to the left" Isaac mocks me, grinning. "A little to the right?"
I stick my tongue out at him.
"Better be careful with that thing," he jokes.”
“I can’t sit through this thing with you next to me flashing your man cave the whole time.”
“Don't, he says and then places his free hand underneath mine.”
“It wasn’t every day a guy saw a headless beaver marching down the side of a road, not even in Dean Robillard’s larger-than-life world. “Son of a…” Dean”
“A named thing is a tamed thing.”
“She was white, perhaps too white. Her eyes, which were almost always cast down, when she raised them testified to the purest of souls, and when she smiled, revealing her small, white teeth, one might be tempted to say that a rose is merely a plant, and ivory just an elephant’s tusk.”
“There were pictures on the walls, all of them dime-store prints of Jesus. In all of them Jesus had blue eyes and wore pale blue robes and had long blond hair and a neat blond beard. He looked more like a Malibu surfer than a Jew from two thousand years ago.”
“He’d wanted only to be inside Ainsley and stay there, where everything was safe and splendid, and her tenderness wrapped him and eased every hurt in his soul.”
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