Quote

My heart should be breaking, too, but there comes a point when you’re so inured to loss that you no longer feel the lash.

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
Loss
Longer
Point
Comes
Feel
Inured
Feels
Lash
Heart
Lashes
Breaking

More quotes by Ann Aguirre

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Are you afraid of falling, baby? No, I’m afraid of landing. [He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.] Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?
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Did he die well? No, I thought. Nobody did. They just died.
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If this is the last time, let me say it so you never forget. I will always love you, Deuce. No matter where souls go, mine will be looking for you, solnyshko moyo. No. I want a promise instead. Promise you'll fight like you never have, so when the dying stops, you'll be on your feet looking for me here. I swear.
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She carries chaos like an overcoat.
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Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.
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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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It's only a sure defeat when you stop trying.
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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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For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.
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They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don't deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it's not the same as a proper good-bye.
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My body was a machine, plain and simple. I worked it to stay strong I fed it to keep it running.
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But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.
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Each love is unique. Special. Giving to one never takes away from another.
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Brown bird welcomes white wave. Wander no more, dear traveler.
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But the world moves on, even when you don't want it to, even when change feels like the end of everything. It never stops.
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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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He's never going to sit at my feet and write me poems, which is good because I hate poetry, except dirty ones that rhyme.
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We stand a professional distance apart, as if I can’t feel his pain screaming in my head. Mine amplifies his they share a joint sound—that of glass breaking—until they swell to a crescendo that deafens.
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I never belonged anywhere until I met you.
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I don’t like anyone knowing anything about me that I didn’t choose to tell them.
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