Top 25 Tiffany Baker Quotes of All time - Quotes.Pub

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She never understood that love – especially that of a child – was the most necessary weight you can endure in life, even if it hurts, even if it tugs bags under the skin of your eyes. Without it, the soul skitters to the edge of the world and teeters there, confused.

And one day, you, too, might grow up to be enchanting.

Isn’t that part of love, I wanted to ask, carrying someone else’s ghosts for them?

The body is just the body. It has it’s own structures, it’s own laws. It’s a thing unto itself. When it breaks down, that’s it.

Of course, this memory makes me sorrowful now, for it anyone ever knew the shape of me, it was Amelia – and not just the outer lines of me, either, but all my innards as well. She was as necessary as the sun to me. She was the quiet heat that shimmered inside my shadow and made it live, and without her, I am a little darker.

Whatever you ever saw in that mirror left it long ago and became part of you. No one can steal that.

Who says all the lines of love are supposed to match up? I’d never thought about it that way before – that maybe your perfect other wasn’t everything you already were, but everything you were never going to be.

Well, the way I see it, honey, love’s love, whatever shape it comes in.

Amelia and I were at the age where wonderful things sometimes still did happen, but far less often than they used to.

Everything in the world has its two faces, however. Weeds sometimes blossom into artful flowers. Beauty walks hand in hand with ugliness, sickness with health, and life tiptoes around in the horned shadow of death. The trick is to recognize which is which and to recognize what you’re dealing with at the time.

Maybe the heavens were a kind of celestial grave, I thought, the way the earth is a repository for our flesh, and when we stared at the stars, we were really beholding a million lives twinkling back at us, asking us not to forget.

We see what we want to see in life, regardless of whether it’s really in front of us or not...

But it’s easy to solve the past in the present, and when you do, you sometimes forget to leave room for forgiveness.

So often, we believe we are alone in the privacy of our fantasies, but that is a delusion as well – and perhaps the most dangerous kind. For in letting ourselves forget about the common threads of our innermost wishes, we erode our foundations and lose the keystone of our souls.

Sometimes I think I collect souls to make up for the ones I’ve lost over the course of my life.

At night, the valleys of my body curve around him, creating a geography I never knew existed before, where size is relative and more is always better, and I can’t seem to get enough of it.

What I really wanted to do was linger in the tidy lines that Marcus had scored into the earth. I wanted to sit in the exact center of the spiral and wait for the plants to unfurl themselves. I wanted them to climb and rove over my limbs until I burst into bloom with them.

Not like me, who would have given anything to shed my cumbersome skin and bones, stripping myself down to marrow, to nothing more than a gambler’s heart, which beat fast and true and still believed that somewhere out there, a deck was stacked entirely in my favor.

Tabitha’s quilt was more than pieces of fabric sewn together. It was a patchwork of souls.

If there was one thing Brenda Dyerson was good at, she knew it, was cooking up the scraps destiny had laid out on its plates for her.

Death is a kind of guilt in itself. We’re all alive in this world together, and we’re also all mortal, but when one person pulls his thread through to the other side, it can start a chain reaction you never in your wildest dreams saw coming. Maybe you’ll be left with nothing more than an unholy knot to unpick. Maybe a new design. Sometimes a whole new perspective on yourself.

On the face of things, we were hopelessly mismatched, but somehow we fit together perfectly.

Even back then, I guess, I suspected that sometimes the only available choice in life is to spit on death and run.

I looked at my sister’s white knees nestled together like a pair of Brenda’s eggs and had the urge, not for the first time, to crack her right open. I wanted to pick her ribs apart until I got to the messy center of her – surely somewhere inside my sister there must be some sort of mess, I thought – and dip my fingers in.

Make sure you don’t lose your heart living with Robert Morgan. Make sure he doesn’t use up all the very best parts of you.