Box Colleen Quotes

God Layken. How do you do it? she says. She blows her nose and grabs another tissue out of the box. How do I do what? I sniff as I continue to wipe the tears from my eyes. How do you not fall in love with him? The tears begin flowing just as quickly as they had ceased. I grab yet another tissue. I don't not fall in love with him. I don't not fall in love with him a lot!

Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

After the room is finished, my mother and Sky head downstairs. I stack the boxes in the hallway, then turm to shut the door. Before I close it completely, I look to her bed. I don't watch her die again. I watch her smile.

And Ren cracked open a jewelry box. Two strands of tiny beads wound around each other in gold and blue. Small diamond and sapphire flowers ran down the length of the chain and in the center hung a diamond lotus flower with a ruby center. I pressed trembling fingertips to my lips as I recognized Kishan's ring reworked into a new form....... I turned back to him and as he touched the beads along the edge, he spoke quietly, "Gold and blue tiger's eyes to remember what was found." His finger trailed down to the lotus ruby in the center. "A diamond lotus and red ruby to remember what was lost". He slid two fingers up the length of the chain over the dozens of tiny blue flowers. "And sapphire flowers that symbolize what will be.

captivity is still captivity no matter how pretty the jail is.

When he settles back onto his knee, he wipes a tear away from his own eyes. “Sherry, until I met you I didn’t know what life was. I had no clue that I wasn’t even alive. It’s like you came along and woke up my soul." He's looking straight at her as he talks. He doesn't sound nervous at all, like he's determined to prove to her how serious he is. He takes a deep breath and then continues. "I’ll never be able to give you everything you deserve, but I’ll definitely spend the rest of my life trying.” He pulls the ring out of the box and slides it on her finger. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Sherry. I’m telling you to marry me, because I can’t live without you.” Sherry wraps her arms around his neck and they hold onto one another and cry. “Okay,” she finally says. When they begin to kiss, his hand reaches over and turns off the camera.

I don’t see us needing to open this box for any other reason than to celebrate our longevity, Quinn. But, if one of us ever decides we want a divorce—if we’ve reached the point where we think that’s the only answer—we have to promise not to go through with it until we open this box and read these letters. Maybe reminding each other of how we felt when we closed the box will help change our minds if we ever need to open it early.

Guys have a mental calendar of days in the week, and below the days are empty boxes. On days when they have sex, the box gets a checked. The check mark means all is good and right in the world. An empty box means...not that.

Case in point: On one of their first dates, he brought her a box of Ivory Flakes soap. Who needs flowers? Roses fade, but flaky soap available from the PX lasted months. Having Ivory Flakes was a rarity in itself, and also saved her valuable time—one less line to stand in, only to find that the grocer was out. Again. That was romance, as far as Colleen was concerned. Maybe this guy was a keeper after all.

Jayni dropped her gaze and asked quietly, “Will I get a small box since I haven’t had cancer?” “Oh, child, life in your shadow world is hard, even without cancer. Suffering comes in many forms. But joy comes when you understand that this is the real world, here with me, and all those troubles in your world won’t last forever.

Objective reality: I am breathing. I am safe. I am warm... no, I'm not warm, they only ever heat this box room for Christmas. Okay, anyway I'm healthy...  Subjective reality: I AM FAILING AT EVERY CONCEIVABLE LEVEL

I suck at gifts. Shit, what if she’s the type who gives the best gifts? I’m the guy who once bought his nine-year-old brother a hamster for Christmas, but didn’t realize it died in the box. Brennan opened it and cried the entire day. And this beautiful girl has me as her boyfriend.

Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

It’s very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.

Hey Kells, Miss you. Come home soon. I figured you'd like something more girlish to go with my amulet. There's also an extra gift in the box, just in case you need it. - Kishan" I set the necklace aside and dug through the box. A small cylinder was wrapped in tissue paper. Unrolling it, a cold, metal canister fell into my palm. It was a can of pepper-spray. On it, Kishan had taped a picture of a tiger with a circle and a slash across its face. At the top were the words "Tiger Repellant" in big black letters.

It’s very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

I learned very early on that a human is not merely comprised of only one thing. We are two parts that make up the whole. We have our conscious, which includes our mind, our soul, and all the intangible parts. And we have our physical being, which is the machine that our conscious relies on for survival. If you fuck with the machine, you will die. If you neglect the machine, you will die. If you assume your conscious can outlive the machine, you will die shortly after learning you were wrong. It's very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. "Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you're at it." Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it's hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you'll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

Decades after little Colleen’s death, my sister Kathy still loves her daughter dearly. Colleen was born with cerebral palsy. She died in Kath’s arms in a rocking chair at the age of six. They were listening to a music box that looked very much like a smiling pink bunny. The opening quote in this book, “I will love you forever, but I’ll only miss you for the rest of my life,” is from Kath’s nightly prayers to her child. Colleen couldn’t really talk or walk very well, but loved untying my mother’s tennis shoes and then laughing. When Mom died decades later we sent her off in tennis shoes so Colleen would have something to untie in Heaven. In the meantime, Dad had probably been taking really good care of her up there. He must have been aching to hug her for all of her six years on earth. Mom’s spirit comes back to play with great grandchildren she’d never met or had a chance to love while she was still – I almost said “among the living.” In my family, though, the dead don’t always stay that way. You can be among the living without technically being alive. Mom comes back to play, but Dad shows up only in emergencies. They are both watching over their loved ones. “The Mourning After” is dedicated to all those we have had the joy of loving before they’ve slipped away to the other side. It then celebrates the joy of re-unions.

Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

It’s very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen

I didn't want you to fall in love with me because of fate,' he says, closing the box. 'I wanted you to fall in love with me simply because you couldn't help yourself.' (page 290)

The only time we’re allowed to open this box before our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary is if it’s an emergency.’ ‘What kind of emergency? Like…death?’ He shakes his head. ‘No a relationship emergency. Like…divorce.’ ‘Divorce?’ I hate that word. ‘Seriously?’ ‘I don’t see us needing to open his box for any other reason than to celebrate our longevity, Quinn. But, if one of us ever decides we want a divorce - if we’ve reached the point where we think that’s the only answer - we have to promise not to go through with it until we open this box and read these letters. Maybe reminding each other of how we felt when we closed the box will help change our minds if we ever need to open it early.’ ‘So this box isn’t just a keepsake. It’s also a marriage survival kit?’ Graham shrugs. ‘You could say that. But we have nothing to worry about. I’m confident we won’t need to open this box for another twenty-five years.

So much has changed between us since we closed the box on our wedding night to now. Our circumstances changed. Our dreams changed. Our expectations changed. But the most important thing between us never changed. We lost a lot of ourselves in this marriage, but we have never stopped loving each other. It’s the one thing that stood strong against those Category 5 moments. I realize now that sometimes two people can lose their hope or their desire or their happiness, but losing all those things doesn’t mean you’ve lost. We haven’t lost yet, Quinn.

We are two parts that make up the whole. We have our conscience, which includes our mind, our soul, and all the intangible parts. And we have our physical being, which is the machine that our conscience relies on for survival. If you fuck with the machine, you will die. If you neglect the machine, you will die. If you assume your conscience can outlive the machine, you will die shortly after learning you were wrong. It’s very simple, really. Take care of your physical being. Feed it what it needs, not what the conscience tells you it wants. Giving in to cravings of the mind that ultimately hurt the body is like a weak parent giving in to her child. “Oh, you had a bad day? Do you want an entire box of cookies? Okay, sweetie. Eat it. And drink this soda while you’re at it.” Caring for your body is no different from caring for a child. Sometimes it’s hard, sometimes it sucks, sometimes you just want to give in, but if you do, you’ll pay for the consequences eighteen years down the road.

We stare at each other for a few seconds and it's the first time I've ever felt like he was a complete stranger. I have absolutely no clue what he's thinking right now. This is the moment when I know I should ask him what he's thinking. This is the moment when I should tell him what I'm thinking. This is the moment when I should be honest with him and admit that maybe we should open that box. But instead of being brave and finally speaking the truth, I choke on my inner coward. I look away from him and close the door.

His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, just as fingers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder runs through my whole body. His lip meets my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream […] He’s really angry now. “He’s in everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fucking tattoo on your body that used to be my favorite goddamn part of you!

us. He made his choice that night in the laundry room when he let me go. He has his priorities, and right now I’m not one of them. She takes the box I was wrapping and returns it in front of her and starts wrapping it again. “That night I told you I had cancer, and you ran to Will’s house?” Her voice softens. She clears her throat, still avoiding my eyes. “I need to tell you what he said to me… at the door.” I remember the conversation she’s referring to, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. “When he answered the door I told him you needed to come home. That we needed to talk about it. He looked at me with heartache in his eyes. He said, ‘Let her stay, Julia. She needs me right now.’ “Lake, you broke my heart. It broke my heart that you needed him more than you needed me. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, I realized that you were grown up… that I wasn’t your whole life anymore. Will could see that. He saw how bad his words hurt me. When I turned away to walk back to the house, he followed me into the yard and hugged me. He told me he would never take you from me. He said he was going to let you go… let you focus on me and on the time I had left.” She places the wrapped gift on the bed. She scoots toward me and takes my hands in hers again. “Lake, he didn’t move on. He didn’t choose this new job over you… he chose us over you. He wanted you to have more time with me.” I take a deep breath as I absorb everything my mother just revealed. Is she right? Does he love me enough that he would be willing to let me go? “Mom?” My voice is weak. “What if you’re wrong?” “What if I’m not wrong, Lake? Question everything. What if he wants to choose you? You’ll never know if you don’t tell him how you feel. You’ve completely shut him out. You haven’t given him the chance to pick you.” She’s right, I haven’t. I’ve been completely closed off since that night in the laundry room. “It’s seven thirty, Lake. You know where he is. Go tell him how you feel.” I don’t move. My legs feel like Jell-O. “Go!” she laughs. I jump off the bed and run to my room. My hands are shaking and my thoughts are all jumbled together while I change my pants. I put on the purple shirt that I wore on our first and only date. I go to the bathroom and inspect my reflection. There’s something missing. I run to my room and reach under my pillow and pull out

I’m the guy who once bought his nine-year-old brother a hamster for Christmas, but didn’t realize it had died in the box.

mess. Suzi - I don’t know how I got so fortunate with editors. You are fantastic and I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you. Rebecca - Those covers are the best. Thank you. Colleen - It’s been real. Thanks so much for all your hard work making these books look so pretty. Brittany - You’re the best proofreader ever. I’m so glad I found

His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, just as his fingers begin to trace across my skin, up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder runs over my whole body. His lips meet my skin, right over the tattoo, and then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream. I try to pull away from him, but he has such a tight grip on me he doesn’t even budge. The pain from his teeth piercing my collarbone rips through my shoulder and down my arm. I immediately start crying. Sobbing. “Ryle, let me go,” I say, my voice pleading. “Please. Walk away.” His arms are cutting into mine as he holds me tightly from behind. He spins me, but my eyes are still closed. I’m too scared to look at him. His hands are digging into my shoulders as he pushes me toward the bed. I start trying to fight him off of me, but it’s useless. He’s too strong for me. He’s angry. He’s hurt. And he’s not Ryle. My back meets the bed and I frantically scoot back toward the headboard, trying to get away from him. “Why is he still here, Lily?” His voice isn’t as composed as it was in the kitchen. He’s really angry now. “He’s in everything. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I found in our closet. The fucking tattoo on your body that used to be my favorite goddamn part of you!” He’s on the bed now. “Ryle,” I beg. “I can explain.” Tears streak down my temples and into my hair. “You’re angry. Please don’t hurt me, please. Walk away, and when you come back, I’ll explain.” His hand grips my ankle and he yanks me until I’m beneath him. “I’m not angry, Lily,” he says, his voice disturbingly calm now. “I just think I haven’t proved to you how much I love you.” His body comes down against mine and he takes my wrists with one hand above my head, pressing them against the mattress. “Ryle, please.” I’m sobbing, trying to push him off of me with any part of my body. “Get off me. Please.” No, no, no, no. “I love you, Lily,” he says, his words crashing against my cheek. “More than he ever did. Why can’t you see that?” My fear folds in on itself, and I become diluted with rage. All I can see when I squeeze my eyes shut is my mother crying on our old living room couch; my father forcing himself on top of her. Hatred rips through me and I start screaming. Ryle tries to muffle my screams with his mouth. I bite down on his tongue. His forehead comes crashing down against mine. In an instant, all the pain fades as a blanket of darkness rolls over my eyes and consumes me.