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: 58
Born: 1965
Born: November 25
Writer
New York City
New York
Everyone
Blow
Disappears
House
Grief
Slightest
Someone
Ground
Bell
Time
Door
Blows
Air
Bells
Doors
Sleeping
Buries
Deep
Rings
Gust
Sleep
Disappear
Knocks

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Take a (second or third or fourth) chance. Remake the world.
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Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.
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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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I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
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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 heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I'm watching it burn right to the ground.
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But then I think about my sister and what a shell-less turtle she was and how she wanted me to be one too. C'mon, Lennie, she used to say to me at least ten times a day. C'mon Len. And that makes me feel better, like it's her life rather than her death that is now teaching me how to be, who to be.
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And why do English people sound smarter than the rest of us? Like they should be awarded the Nobel Prize for a simple greeting?
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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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We were all heading for each other on a collision course, no matter what. Maybe some people are just meant to be in the same story.
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I can't shove the dark out of my way.
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You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.
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I wish my shadow would get up and walk beside me.
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Reality is crushing. The world is a wrong-sized shoe. How can anyone stand it?
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That's exactly it—I am crazy sad, and somewhere deep inside, all I want is to fly.
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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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No hot guys should be allowed to have an English accent and drive a motorcycle. Not to mention wear the leather jacket or sport the cool shades. Hot guys should be forced into footie pajamas.
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But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?
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Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.
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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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