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I was crying a little for the boy I had wanted him to be and the boy he hadn’t turned out to be.

Gabrielle Zevin

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Gabrielle Zevin
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: October 24
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Littles
Wanted
Little
Crying
Hadn
Cry
Turned
Boys

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He told me that love was the only thing that really mattered in the world.
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Ask two people to tell you anything, you’ll get two versions. Even easy things like directions, let alone important or semi-controversial topics like why a fight started or what a person was generally like. If you don’t know something for yourself, you just can’t be sure.
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I let myself feel good and sorry for myself, but only for a second. Daddy always said that the most useless of all human emotions was self-pity.
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He kissed me, though not in a sexy way. Gentle. Tender.
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If you are going to forgive a person, Liz decides, it is best to do it sooner rather than later. Later, Liz knows from experience, could be sooner than you thought.
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My brain said no. But my heart!
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In the end, the end of a life only matters to friends, family, and other folks you used to know. For everyone else, it's just another end.
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Oh, says Owen, but I would have, you know. I know you would have, says Liz, and knowing you would have is nearly as good.
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Someday, you do not know when, you will be driving down the road and someday, you do not now when, you will make a wrong tun. At the end of the road, when you're least expecting it, he (or indeed she) will be there.
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Eye contact made people think you were being truthful even if you weren't.
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It was strange, really. A couple months ago, I had thought I couldn’t live without him. Apparently I could.
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We aren't the things we collect, acquire, read. We are, for as long as we are here, only love. The things we loved. The people we loved. And these, I think these really do live on.
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There's a strange sort of quiet when you're dying. It's as if you're in a glass room, and the walls keep getting thicker and thicker.
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But I wondered if all this kissing was a bad habit with him and me. The thing we did with our mouths instead of talking.
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I was just thinking... isn't it lucky that we decided to become co-editors? If one takes a blow to the head, the other can fill in. If the other's lung spontaneoulsy collapses, the one can fill in. It's a perfect system once you think about it. ~Will Landsman
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Before I liked to write, I liked to type. I remember visiting my grandmother Adele in Ponce Inlet, Florida, when I was three years old, and she had an IBM electric typewriter.
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You tell a kid he doesn't like to read, and he'll believe you
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