Elizabeth Chandler · 690 pages
Rating: (24.5K votes)
“When you love someone, its never over. You move on, because you have to but you take them with you in your heart”
“I wouldn't have been sent back to help you," Tristan continued. "I wouldn't have been made an angel if it weren't important that you live, Ivy. I want you to be mine" -Ivy could hear the pain in his voice- "but you're not."
"I am!" she cried out loud.
"We're on different sides of a river," he said, "and it's a river that neither of us can cross. You were meant for somebody else.”
“I love you, Ivy. I'll never stop loving you."
She leaned against the winsow, looking out on a pale and glittering night. She looked through tears.
I prayed for one more chance to reach you," he said, "to tell you how much I love you and to tell you to keep on loving. Someone else was meant for you, Ivy, and you were meant for someone else."
She stood up straight. "No."
Yes, love," he said, softly but firmly.
No!"
Promise me, Ivy-"
I'll promise you nothing but that I love you," she cried.
Listen to me," Tristan pleaded. "You know I can't stay any longer."
The pale, glittering night was raining now, and fresh tears gleamed on her cheeks, but he had to leave.
I love you," he said. "I love you. Love him.
- Tristan Carruthers -”
“How would you feel about sharing your bed?" she asked.
Tristan blinked. "Excuse me?"
"He'd love to!" Gary said.
Tristan shot him a look,
"Good," said Ivy, failing to notice Gary's wink. "Ella can be a pillow hog, but all you have to do is roll over her.”
“You fell in love with me?”
“This isn't some kind of game for me. I love you, Ivy Lyons, and one day you're going to believe me.
- Tristan Carruthers -”
“Who's that little brunette?" Suzanne asked. "I hate little petite types. Gregory doesn't look right with someone petite. Little face, little hands, little dainty feet."
"Big boobs," Beth said, glancing up.”
“Every night she had fallen asleep dreaming about that kiss, and each kiss after.”
“Lacey said softly, "Tristan, you need to rest now. There's nothing you can do until you rest."
But he could not leave Ivy. He put his arms around her. She slipped through him and moved toward the bureau, taking the picture in her hands. He wrapped her in his arms again, but she only cried harder.
Then Ella was set lightly on the bureau top. Lacey's hands had done it. The cat rubbed up against Ivy's head.
"Oh, Ella, I don't know how to let go of him."
"Don't let go," Tristan begged.
"In the end, she must," Lacey warned.
"I've lost him, Ella, I know it. Tristan is dead. He can't hold me ever again. He can't think of me. He can't want me now. Love ends with death."
"It doesn't!" Tristan said. "I'll hold you again, I swear it, and you'll see that my love will never end."
"You're exhausted, Tristan," Lacey told him.
"I'll hold you, I'll love you forever!"
"If you don't rest now," Lacey said, "you'll become even more confused. It'll be hard to tell real from unreal, or to rouse yourself out of the darkness. Tristan, listen to me..."
But before she finished speaking, the darkness overtook him.”
“Oh, I'll just improvise. I doubt you'll be much help. You couldn't have any real skills yet. Probably all you can do is stand there and shimmer, like some kind of freakin' Christmas ornament -- meaning only a believer or two will see you."
"Only a believer?"
"You mean you still haven't figured out that?" She shook her head in disbelief.
But he had figured it out; he just didn't want to admit it, just didn't want it to be true. The old lady had been a believer. So was Philip. Both of them had seen him shimmering. But Ivy had not. Ivy had stopped believing.”
“...those who love suffer when who they love suffers.”
“One must always name a weapon. You cannot trust that which you cannot call by name.”
“It was not just the drink, though, that was making me happy, but the tenderness of things, the simple goodness of the world. This sunset, for instance, how lavishly it was laid on, the clouds, the light on the sea, that heartbreaking, blue-green distance, laid on, all of it, as if to console some lost suffering waybarer. I have never really got used to being on this earth. Somethings I think our presence here is due to a cosmic blunder, that we were meant for another planet altogether, with other arrangements, and other laws, and other, grimmer skies. I try to imagine it, our true place, off on the far side of the galaxy, whirling and whirling. And the ones who were meant for here, are they out there, baffled and homesick, like us? No, they would have become extinct long ago. How could they survive, these gentle earthlings, in a world that was meant to contain us?”
“For the record I don't believe in Fate. I believe that the pieces have been placed. The ending hasn't been written yet.”
“The U.S. financial markets had always been either corrupt or about to be corrupted.”
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