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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.

Gabrielle Zevin

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Gabrielle Zevin
Age: 47
Born: 1977
Born: October 24
Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Last
Lawyer
Mother
Kissing
Place
Cry
Beautiful
Broken
Wanted
Instead
Every
Started
Winning
Lasts
Kiss

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i've made room for you, she said. if you want it, there's room.
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He told me that love was the only thing that really mattered in the world.
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On Elsewhere we fool ourselves into thinking we know what will be just because we know the amount of time we have left. We know this, but we never really know what will be. We never know what will happen.
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I accept your condemnation, I said.
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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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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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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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Win walked over to me. He held out his palm. In the middle of it was a single black sequin from the dress Scarlet had lent me. You lost this, he said. I giggled, slightly embarrassed to be leaving bits of myself behind. I'm shedding.
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It's a tragic fact to die in an accident
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I have so much paperwork. I'm afraid my paperwork has paperwork.
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I don't think I would have minded you being the keeper of my secrets.
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A life isn't measured in hours or minutes. Its the quality not the length. All things considered I've been luckier than most. Almost sixteen years on Earth, and I've already had eight good ones here. I expect to have eight more before all's good said and done. Nearly thirty-two years total, and that's not too shabby
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But I believe good things happen everyday. I believe good things happen even when bad things happen. And I believe on a happy day like today, we can still feel a little sad. And that's life, isn't it?
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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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He kissed me, though not in a sexy way. Gentle. Tender.
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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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