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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
Something
Love
Sky
Natural
Science
Tell
True

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And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.
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The only characters I ever don't like are ones that leave no impression on me. And I don't write characters that leave no impression on me.
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I used to have only one name it used to mean something.
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My sisters were in that van.
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I can hear my brother's voice in my head. Your problem is that you're too emotional. But how can I not be emotional, Rowan? How can I not care?
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It doesn't matter how much his mother loves him love is not enough to keep any of us alive.
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It's never right to give up on someone.
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Even things that aren't broken can be fixed.
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A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.
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It's quiet for a while, and then Rowan says We could talk now. We're alone out here. No walls. There are always walls. I say.
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Someday I'll tell you all of it, I say. I'd like that, he says. No, I say. I promise you won't.
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Cure is one of the most precious words in the English language. It's a short word. A clean and simple word. But it isn't so easy a thing as it sounds. There are questions like: How will this affect us in ten years? In twenty? What will it do to our children? Our children's children?
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You’re insane, you know that?” he says. “It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say.
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There is warmth shooting through my broken body where there should be pain, and I put my arms around the back of his neck and I hold on to him. I hold on because you never know in this place when something good will be taken away.
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Life is much different from the days when there were lilies in my mother’s garden, and all my secrets fit into a paper cup.
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I miss something I never even had.
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I think, in this strange world of beautiful things, there may be some humanity after all.
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I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.
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Don't you miss it? I say. Being free. He laughs.
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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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