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Happiness was useless to me. It was heartache that filled my purse. What happy man has need of Shakespeare?

Jennifer Donnelly

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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Shakespeare
Useless
Filled
Happiness
Happy
Need
Purse
Needs
Purses
Men
Heartache

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He loves the sparkling fountains and their cascades and says the strangest things as he watches them. they look like stars breaking. Or, They look like Mama's diamonds. Or, They look like all the souls in heaven.
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A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.
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Bravery is feeling fear but doing the thing anyway.
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Be careful what you show the world. You never know when the wolf is watching.
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The world goes on, stupid and brutal, but I do not. Can't you see? I do not.
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I've always admired your rather formidable will, your refusal to back away from difficulties, but sometimes strength isn't about perseverance. Sometimes it's about knowing when to quit.
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It has an L on it. L for love. See? It's the key to the universe, Dad. You said you were looking for it. You told Mom you were. I found it for you so you don't have to look anymore. So you can come home at night.
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You can't argue with the dead, no matter what you say, they always have the last word.
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But his words fall away. He looks confused. He looks flustered and sorry. Like you do when you run up to someone you think you know and take her arm and she turns around and you were wrong.
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He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.
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Writers are damned liars. Every single one of them.
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Yeah. Sure. My brother's dead. My mother's insame. Hey, let's have a crepe.
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It's only the body that's gone. Only the body. There's a part that doesn't go in the ground, a part that stays inside you forever.
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There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.
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For the first time, I saw what was in his heart, and I wondered if he might ever want to look deep enough to see mine.
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He pressed himself into me and kissed my neck, and it was as if everything strong and solid inside me, heart and bones and muscle and gut, softened and melted from the heat of him.
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For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.
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There were times when I lifted my face to the sky, stretched my arms wide to the winter night, and laughed out loud, so happy was I. The memory of it makes me laugh now, but not from happiness. Be careful what you show the world. You never know when the wolf is watching.
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She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.
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