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I'll tell you something about true love. There's no science to it. It's as natural as the sky.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Tell
True
Something
Love
Sky
Natural
Science

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You've been captive for so long that you don't even realize you want freedom anymore.
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You can try to please everyone and risk accomplishing nothing, or go for your dreams and risk pissing a few people off.
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When I was 11 or 12, I was really bored with everything on my summer reading list. It was all happy, middle-grade kinds of books. I was getting frustrated, because I liked to read. My mother went to the library and got me a copy of 'The Other Side of Midnight' by Sidney Sheldon. It was my first adult book.
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He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.
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Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale.
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What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.
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Gabriel's voice can reach me anywhere. Even in a hurricane.
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It was a terrible decision, and I confess I'd make it again.
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There's nothing here to say good-bye to. There's no dancing girl. No mischievous smile. She's gone, off with her sisters, broken free, escaped. And if she were here now, she would say, Go.
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In the distance I see a lighthouse. The light washes over us and continues on its rotation. This time, I don't know where the light will guide us.
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Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.
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I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die.
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It was my fifth grade teacher who introduced the idea that writing could be more than a hobby for me.
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Eventually I realize that I am holding on to him just as tightly as he holds on to me. And here we are: two small dying things, as the world ends around us like falling autumn leaves.
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There's a sort of dead passion in him. A spark that, had he more years to live, would be a wildfire.
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Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other. Pg 225
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But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.
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Times like this, when she slips her hand into mine and holds on tight, and our husband becomes just a shadow in the doorway.
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Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
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I always knew I was an excellent liar I just didn't know that I had it in me to fool myself.
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