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But I know all the things you're too sweet to know.

Lauren DeStefano

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Lauren DeStefano
Age: 39
Born: 1984
Born: October 13
Author
Novelist
Connecticut
United States
Sweet
Things

More quotes by Lauren DeStefano

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I wish I had a memory of that first violent shove, the shock of cold air, the sting of oxygen into new lungs. Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.
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I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
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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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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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You’re insane, you know that?” he says. “It’s the only thing keeping me afloat,” I say.
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Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.
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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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and I've always known it, the way I love a song I hear for the first time, even before I know all the words, the way I love my favorite color, and the way that the train would speed past my bedroom when it was very quiet and I'd feel it in my stomach rushing through me. I love you in a way that I've never felt needed to be said.
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We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop.
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My sisters were in that van.
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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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She would do anything, anything to belong to his son after a lifetime of belonging to no one at all.
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I miss something I never even had.
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There was a desperate undercurrent to our marriage--a feeling of being in a dream from which I couldn't seem to awaken. A nagging sense that my life, laid out so neatly like the clothes Deirdre left on my divan, was no longer my own.
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I don't dare touch her. Loss is a knowledge I'm sorry to have. Perhaps the only thing worse than experiencing it, is watching it replay anew in someone else--all the awful stages picking up like a chorus that has to be sung.
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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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Maybe hope isn't the most dangerous thing a person can have. Maybe love is.
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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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who once had dreams of saving the world, now laughs at anyone who tries.
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It's the silence I imagine in the rest of the world, the silence of an endless ocean and uninhabitable island, a silence that can be seen from space.
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