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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: 46
Born: 1977
Born: October 24
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Little
Crying
Hadn
Cry
Turned
Boys
Littles
Wanted

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That Woman is in love with her own grief.
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It was funny how dad was more honest in a book that anyone in the world could pick up and read than he could be talking to me. Or maybe it was sad. One or the other. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.
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Saying you're through with romance is like saying you're done with living, Betty. Life is better with a little romance, you know.
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I know you did, lass. You're the toughest girl I know. 'Lass'? Where did that come from? I don't know. I just felt the urge to call you that.
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Wounds are like water set to boil - they heal best left unwatched.
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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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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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Betty inhales sharply, 'It's just I thought I had lost you forever.' Oh, Betty, don't you know there's no such thing as forever?
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It was such a sweet, sad song with such sweet, sad lyrics. Old-fashioned a little, but also timeless.
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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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Well, for one, you have to remember not to scream. Once you have their attention, whispering is much more effective. Screaming ghosts scare people, you know
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Life used to move much more quickly when I was a girl. We needed to abbreviate just to keep up.
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My brain said no. But my heart!
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Covers matter. In my experience, a different cover can make you think you're reading an entirely different book.
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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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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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It's hard to believe. Where does the times go?' Betty sighs. 'I've always hated that phrase. It makes it would like time went on a holiday, and is expected back any day now. Time flies is another one I hate. Apparently, time does quite a bit of traveling, though.
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People are capable of great, great change during the span of one lifetime. And women even more than men.
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Love stories are written in millimeters and milliseconds with a fast, dull pencil whose marks you can barely see, they are written in miles and eons with a chisel on the side of a mountiantop
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