Quote

grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the bell a house that blows into the air at the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping

Jandy Nelson

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Jandy Nelson
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: November 25
Writer
New York City
New York
Air
Bells
Doors
Sleeping
Buries
Deep
Rings
Gust
Sleep
Disappear
Knocks
Everyone
Blow
Disappears
House
Grief
Slightest
Someone
Ground
Bell
Time
Door
Blows

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Our tongues have fallen madly in love and gotten married and moved to Paris.
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And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it's night, day breaks.
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Years ago, I was crashed in gram’s garden and Big asked me what I was doing. I told him I was looking up at the sky. He said, “That’s a misconception, Lennie, the sky is everywhere, it begins at your feet.
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When people fall in love, they burst into flames.
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People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.
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In one split second I saw everything I could be, everything I want to be. And all that I'm not.
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When he plays all the flowers swap colors and years and decades and centuries of rain pour back into the sky
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... every available inch of his face busts into a smile - whoa. Has he blown into our school on a gust of wind from another world? The guy looks unabashedly jack-o'-lantern happy, which couldn't be more foreign to the sullen demeanor most of us strove to perfect.
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Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.
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This is it--what all the hoopla is about, what Wuthering Heights is about--it all boils down to this feeling rushing through me in this moment with Joe as our mouths refuse to part. Who knew all this time I was one kiss away from being Cathy and Juliet and Elizabeth Bennet and Lady Chatterley!?
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I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.
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We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.
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... if you're someone who knows the worst thing can happen at any time, aren't you also someone who knows the best thing can happen at any time too?
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You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.
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It's such a colossal effort not to be haunted by what's lost, but to be enchanted by what was.
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I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
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Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.
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This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.
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I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.
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It’s never occurred to me that the stars are still up there shining even in the daytime when we can’t see them.
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