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Sometimes the past needed to stay buried it was the only way you could move on. And sometimes you had to dig it up, because that too was the only way.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Sometimes
Way
Buried
Stay
Move
Needed
Moving
Past

More quotes by Ann Aguirre

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If I ever win you, he said, anger bright in his pale eyes, it will be because you want me more. Not because he's gone. I'm nobody's second best.
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Through the damp fabric of my coverall, bundled in my blanket, I feel naked. Raw. He sees more than I want, more than I can bear. It’s like standing before him ... while he stares at my scars, pitiless and unmoved.
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He has to take me as I am, broken bits and all.
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But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.
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A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.
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I imagine the ones we’ve lost as ghosts who prowl about the edges of the light, waiting for us to join them. Sometimes that’s terrifying, and sometimes it’s reassuring, a promise of homecoming.
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We stood back-to-back, blocking and striking in harmony sometimes it felt like his arms and legs were an extension of me. I could count on him to keep them off me from behind.
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There were different kinds of strength. I knew that now. It didn't always come from a knife or a willingness to fight. Sometimes it came from endurance, where the well ran deep and quiet. Sometimes it came from compassion and forgiveness.
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He would bear scars because of me, as I carried them for him.
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Each time Stalker called you 'dove', I wanted to hit him. Because you're not a little gray bird... you're all the light in the world.
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My skill didn't lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.
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I know just how he feels that it’s come to this. Sometimes, love isn’t enough, even when it’s all you have.
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I’m as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.
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He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.
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Stalkers lips curled into a sneer. You won't make a move without him, huh? That's embarrassing. No, I said softly. It just hurts because you wish it was you.
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We're broken in complementary ways, thus rendering our damage comprehensible to each other.
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Just . . . love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.
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I always have someplace else I’d rather be, even if I don’t know where that is, yet.
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But I miss the woman I was, even as I learn to accept the new creature I’ve become.
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If so, I couldn't imagine how the opposite gender managed to get out of bed in the morning. They might be lovely to look at, but clear thinking wasn't their strong point.
Ann Aguirre