...all the mess of love and life [that] only shows up as you go along.
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If the burden is too much and stays too long, even love bends, cracks, comes close to breaking and sometimes does break. But even when it’s in a thousand pieces around your feet, that doesn’t mean it’s no longer love.
OK, we’ll tell her you dug the grave.’ It’s the truth – stretched, but still true. Besides, what would be left of love without truth stretched beyond its limits, without those better versions of ourselves that we present as the only ones that exist?
I’d never been so happy to see another human being, wanted to strap her in the seat next to me, live with her in the car forever, never let her out of my sight again.
Hope has always been my opium, the thing I couldn’t wean myself off. No matter how bad things got, I found a way to believe that even defeat was a sign that I was bound to win.
I did not see him as someone who had changed, but as a man I had never known. I doubted the love I had once been so sure of and concluded that he had married me because he thought I was gullible.