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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.

Gabrielle Zevin

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Gabrielle Zevin
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: October 24
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
World
Anyone
Talking
Read
Funny
Pick
Tell
Picks
Book
Dad
Hard
Honest
Sometimes
Maybe

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It is a lie that people who love each other must know everything about each other. Love must occasionally allow for a gap.
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Wounds are like water set to boil - they heal best left unwatched.
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My beautiful Win. I wanted to kiss him on every last broken place, but his mother and my lawyer were there. So, instead I started to cry.
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The baby, a girl, is born at 6:24 a.m. She weighs six pounds, ten ounces. The mother takes the baby in her arms and asks her, Who are you, my little one? And in response, this baby, who is Liz and not Liz at the same time, laughs.
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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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Eye contact made people think you were being truthful even if you weren't.
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I don't think I would have minded you being the keeper of my secrets.
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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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My brain said no. But my heart!
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Should have. Would have. Could have. Didn't.
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Daddy always said that an option that you know to have a bad outcome is only a fool's option, i.e., not an option at all. And I liked to think that Daddy hadn't raised a fool.
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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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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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Hi there, squeaked a precocious little voice, you are speaking to Chloe Fusakawa, and I have just learned how to answer the phone.
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That Woman is in love with her own grief.
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Let's stay young forever. Young, stupid, and pretty. Sounds like a plan, don't you think?
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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.
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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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They should tell you when you’re born: have a suitcase heart, be ready to travel.
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For the longest time after that, neither of us said anything. I was unaccustomed to his silence, but I didn't mind it. I knew near everything about him, and he knew near everything about me, and all that made our quiet a kind of song. The kind you hum without even knowing what it is or why you're humming it. The kind that you've always known.
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