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It's never right to give up on someone.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 40
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Someone
Give
Right
Giving
Never

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Maybe hope isn't the most dangerous thing a person can have. Maybe love is.
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Childhood is a long, long road, from which that dark whispering forest of death seems an impossible destination.
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For males twenty-five is the fatal age. For women it's twenty. We are all dropping like flies.
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Words like 'unputdownable' and 'irresistible' are simply not enough for Cat Winters's In the Shadow of Blackbirds. Days after finishing this story, it remains the first thought I have in the morning, and the thing that haunts me until I sleep.
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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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A party in the orange grove. The pain on Linden's face is immediate. I am unwavering. He has cost me more pain than I will ever be able to repay.
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I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?
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You can't be afraid. You can be sad if you like. You can be angry. But it's the fear that'll freeze you in place.
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Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
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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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And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.
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He sits next to me, careful to avoid my hair that's splayed out around my head like blood. A bullet to the forehead, boom, blond waves everywhere.
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We writers are resilient souls.
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I figured it out eventually, she says. She's sitting on the edge of the gurney again her features slowly materialize as my vision clears. It's momentum. What? I whisper. The feeling returning to my lips, spreading out to my fingertips and toes. Momentum, she repeats. You can't just stand there if you want something to fly. You have
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A strange thing, words. Once they're said, it's hard to imagine they're untrue.
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Real’ is a dirty word in this place.
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She smiles at our husband as she moves, and he blushes, overcome by her beauty. But I know what her smile really means...Her smile is her revenge.
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There's a world out there that nobody has bothered to promise her.
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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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The seeds are tiny, unborn things, and I resent them. They'll be planted and they'll grow into exactly what they're meant to be.
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