Firefly Lane Quotes

That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.

That was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.

That was what a best friend did: hold up a mirror and show you your heart.

To make real friends you have to put yourself out there. Sometimes people will let you down, but you can't let that stop you. If you get hurt, you just pick yourself up, dust off your feelings, and try again.

Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing.

One thing I can tell you for sure is this: we only regret what we don't do in life.

And before you barrel through some idiotic Cosmo girl list of how-well-do-you-know-your-man questions, let me say that I don't know squat about him except that he kisses like a god and screws like a devil.

Thoughts - even fears - were airy things, formless until you made them solid with your voice and once given that weight, they could crush you.

Of course you can fall in love. You just have to let yourself. They don't call it falling for nothing. -Kate

What good did it do to light the world on fire if she had to watch the glow alone?

When you get . . . to the end, you see that love and family are all there is. Nothing else matters.

I guess no one stays friends for more than thirty years without broken hearts along the way.

Do you love him?" How would I know?" You'd know.

The at-home mother's life: it was a race with no finish line.

Popularity means people think they know you.

You will always miss her. There will be days - even years from now - when the missing will be so sharp it will take your breath away. But there will be good days, too, months and years of them. In one way or another you'll be searching for her all your life.

Nobody's strong enough to be a parent. We just do it, blindly, going forward on faith and love and hope. That's all it is...Being afraid...and going on.

So now books were her only friends. She'd read Lord of the Rings so often she could recite whole scenes by memory. It was not a skill that aided one in becoming popular.

She waited for you in a thousand different ways.

Then he left her there, standing alone, surrounded by word ghosts; things she could have said.

It was true; always had been. Friendships were like marriages in that way. Routines and patterns were poured early and hardened like cement.

When you're a mom, you learn about fear. You're always afraid. Always. About everything from cupboard doors to kidnappers to weather.

Sometimes you simply made the wrong choice and you had to live with it. You could only change the future.

She still felt shell-shocked by all of it, numb. Beneath the numbness, though, was a raw and terrible anger that was unlike anything she'd felt before. She had so little experience with genuine anger that it scared her. She actually worried that if she started screaming, she'd never stop.

It's not a date. I bought my own drink and I didn't shave my legs.

Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing." "I'm supposed to watch her make a mistake?" "Sometimes, yes. And then you stand by to pick up the pieces.

It's never good to sit around and wait for someone of something to change your life.

It occurred to her suddenly, sharply, that she wanted to be in love... She wanted not to feel so damned alone in the world.

It felt as if she were bleeding - but it wasn't blood that leaked out of her, not something that could be easily transfused. Instead she was losing her dreams.

I thought change started from within." "Sometimes. Sometimes it's forced upon you.

Their friendship was more important than any relationship. Guys would come and go; girlfriends were forever.

She knew this pain would fade again; like a sunburn, it would heal itself and leave her slightly more protected from the glare.

but sometimes one person can hold you up in life, keep you standing, and without that hand to hold, you can find yourself free-falling no matter how strong you used to be, no matter how hard you try to remain steady.

She is like a child picking at a scab, unable to stop herself even though she knows it will hurt.

Memories are who we are, Tul. In the end, that’s all the luggage you take with you. Love and memories are what last.

This time I really am going to light the world on fire,' she said, laughing. 'I finally have a fucking match.

Then he left her there, standing along, surrounded by word ghosts; things she could have said.

Drama, she'd learned, was like good punctuation: it underscored your point.

You will always miss her. There will be days - even years from now - when the missing will be so sharp it will take your breath away. But there will be good days, too, months and years of them. In one way or another you'll be searching for her all your life.

It’s never good to sit around and wait for someone or something to change your life.

She knew, too, that love didn’t evaporate. It faded, perhaps, lost its weight like bones left out in the sun, but it didn’t go away.

Best friends forever. They'd believed it would last, that vow, that someday they'd be old women, sitting in their rocking chairs on a creaking deck, talking about the times of their lives, and laughing...

Some people see a glass as half empty; some see it as half full. I put the glass in a cupboard and forget it’s there. You get my point?

Here’s what I want you to know: I loved my life. For so long I was waiting for it to start, waiting for more. It seemed like all I did was drive and shop and wait. But you know what? I didn’t miss a thing with my family. Not a moment. I was there for all of it. That’s what I’ll remember, and they’ll have each other.

but that shadow self of hers wasn't so sure. The ugly, toxic thought was smaller than a drop of blood, yet it poisoned the entire stream.

I have never known how to say goodbye. It is a failing that has been with me all of my life. It’s especially problematic, given how often partings have come up.

I was always a little girl, lost in Oz, looking for a way to believe that there was no place like home …

When I met your father, it was magic. Not for him—not then—but for me. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can look into a pair of eyes and see your whole future.

Marah will come looking for me one day, Kate had said, pressing the journal into my hands. Be with her when she reads it. And my boys… show them these words when they can’t remember me.

I was not good at the whole making-death-a-positive-transition thing. How could I? I wanted her to fight to the last breath. It was a mistake. I should have listened to her fear, comforted her. Instead I'd promised her that everything would be okay, that she would heal.

What mattered was not caring. And the best way not to care was to surround yourself with noise and people.

Sometimes being a good friend means saying nothing." "I'm just supposed to watch her make a mistake?" "Sometimes, yes. And then you stand by to pick up the pieces.

The Mularkeys all saw love as a durable, reliable thing, easy to recognize... Love could be more fragile than a sparrow's bone.

You can be anything you want. But you have to take a risk sometimes. Reach out.

That was her mistake. She'd pinned her happiness to a teenage girl's chest. Idiot. The realization made her almost smile. She certainly knew better than that.

Sometimes you simply made the wrong choice and you had to live with it. You could only change the future.

How do you keep hold of a dream like that?” “With both hands.

and she smiles at me, my best friend, with her long, tangled blond hair and thick eyelashes and her smile that lights up any room. My other half. The girl who took my hand all those years ago and didn’t let go until she had to.

That’s the funny thing about writing your life story. You start out trying to remember dates and times and names. You think it’s about facts, your life; that what you’ll look back on and remember are the successes and failures, the time line of your youth and middle age, but that isn’t it at all. Love. Family. Laughter. That’s what I remember when it’s all said and done.

Grief is a sneaky thing, always coming and going like some guest you didn't invite and can't turn away. She wants this grief, although she'd never admit it. lately, it's the only thing that feels real.

Dear Tully-- I know you won't be able to stand my fucking funeral. You're not the star. I hope you at least had the photos of me airbrushed. There are so many things I should say to you, but in our lifetime we've said them all. Take care of Johnny and the kids for me, okay? Teach the boys how to be gentlemen and Marah how to be strong. When they're ready, give them my journal and tell them about me when they ask. The truth, too. I want them to know it all. It's going to be hard on you, now. That's one of the things I regret the most. So, here's what I have to say in my beyond-the-grave letter (very dramatic, don't you think?): I know you'll be thinking that I left you, but it's not true. All you have to do is remember Firefly Lane, and you'll find me. There will always be a TullyandKate. BFF <3 Kate

Examination was the only solace. Instead of looking away from heartache, you needed to crawl inside of it, wear it like a warm coat on a cold day. There was peace in loss, beauty in death, freedom in regret.

When you’re a mom, you learn about fear. You’re always afraid. Always. About everything from cupboard doors to kidnappers to weather. There is nothing that can’t hurt our kids, I swear.” She turned. “The irony is they need us to be strong.

Once you'd learned how bad life could go, and how quickly, you tried to protect those who remained.

Sometimes you have to fight for the thing that will complete you.

Where there is life, there is hope, and where there is love, there is forgiveness.

The best mirror is an old friend. —GEORGE HERBERT

One thing I can tell you for sure is this: we only regret what we don’t do in life.

The quarterback? Wow. My mom wouldn't let me stand in the same checkout line as a high school senior. She's so lame. She's not lame. She thinks eighteen year old boys are dangerous. She calls them penises with hands and feet. Tell me that isn't lame.

More and more often they talked about the old days, back when they’d been too young to know that they were young, when the whole world had seemed open to them and dreams were as easy to pick as daisies.

When you grow up as I have, a lost girl without any real past, you latch on to the people who seem to love you. At least that’s what I did. It started early, my holding on too tightly and needing too much. I always craved love. The unconditional, even unearned kind. I needed someone to say it to me. Not to sound poor me, but my mother never said it.

Love. Family. Laughter. That’s what I remember when it’s all said and done. For so much of my life I thought I didn’t do enough or want enough. I guess I can be forgiven for my stupidity. I was young. I want my children to know how proud I am of them, and how proud I am of me. We were everything we needed—you and Daddy

Panic always comes to me in the same way. First, I get a knot in the pit of my stomach that turns to nausea, then a fluttery breathlessness that no amount of deep breathing can cure. But what causes my fear is different every day, I never know what will set me off. It could be a kiss from my husband, or the lingering look of sadness in his eyes when he draws back. Sometimes I know he's already grieving for me, missing me even while I'm still here. Worse yet is Marah's quiet acceptance of everything I say. I would give anything for another of our old knock-down drag-out fights. That's one of the first things I'd say to you now, Marah: Those fights were real life. You were struggling to break free of being my daughter but unsure of how to be yourself, while I was afraid to let you go. It's the circle of love. I only wish I'd recognized it then. Your grandmother told me I'd know you were sorry for those years before you did, and she was right. I know you regret some of the things you said to me, as I regret my own words. None of that matters, though. I want you to know that. I love you and I know you love me.

We'll be friends through jobs and kids and marriages.

Your're successful beyond your wildest dreams and it still isn't enough?

For most of her life she'd been able to box up bad memories or disappointments and store them deep in the back of her mind, in a place so dark they couldn't be seen.

the sprawling branches of the maple tree were plush with autumn.

Sometimes you simply made the wrong choice and you had to live with it. You could only change the future. She

He sighed. “Sometimes life kicks the shit out of you; that’s all. It’s like the Stones said: You can’t always get what you want.

Hope was such a dangerous thing, so ephemeral and amorphous; it didn’t fit in the concrete world of words spoken aloud.

There’s nothing like motherhood to make us reassess how we were as daughters.

It’s never good to sit around and wait for someone or something to change your life. That’s why women like Gloria Steinem are burning their bras and marching on Washington.

Motherhood at times like this—most times—was about the steel in your spine, not the bend.

It would always be a part of her, a scar on her soul, but like all scars, it faded in time from a bright and burning red to a slim, silvery line that could only sometimes be seen.

With the wisdom of time and the passing of years, she knew that. She knew, too, that love didn't evaporate. It faded, perhaps, lost its weight like bones left out in the sun, but it didn't go away.

She ought to have recognized love's scarcity early on. If success were gold, lying in rivers, love was a diamond, buried hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the earth and unrecognizable in its natural form.

was the thing about best friends. Like sisters and mothers, they could piss you off and make you cry and break your heart, but in the end, when the chips were down, they were there, making you laugh even in your darkest hours.

Memories are who we are, Tul. In the end, that’s all the luggage you take with you. Love and memories are what last. That’s why your life flashes before your eyes when you die—you’re picking the memories you want. It’s like packing.

If there was one thing Tully had always done well, it was to ignore unpleasantness. For most of her life she’d been able to box up bad memories or disappointments and store them deep in the back of her mind, in a place so dark they couldn’t be seen. Sure, she dreamed about the bad times, and woke occasionally in a cold sweat with memories on the oily surface of consciousness, but when daylight came, she pushed those thoughts back into their hiding place and found it easy to forget.

Examination was the only solace. Instead of looking away from heartache, you needed to crawl inside of it, wear it like a warm coat on a cold day. There was peace in loss, beauty in death, freedom in regret. She had learned that the hard way. She

She hadn't realized how much she'd needed a dream, but it had transformed her, changed her from poor motherless and abandoned Tully to a girl poised to take on the world. The goal made her life story unimportant, gave her something to reach for, to hang on to

I don’t know how to believe in her, but I don’t know how to let go, either. She’s my mother. After all of it, all the times she’s held on to me and all the times she’s let me go, she’s still woven through me, a part of the fabric of my soul, and it means something, that she’s here.

if wishes were horses, all beggars would ride,

You were struggling to break free of being my daughter but unsure of how to be yourself, while I was afraid to let you go. It’s the circle of love.

You’re afraid of love, but you’ve got so much of it to give.

Some people see a glass as half empty; some see it as half full. I put the glass in a cupboard and forget it’s there.

I turn to Kate, see her glowing face and her beautiful green eyes. In them, I see my whole life. Everything I’ve ever been, and ever wanted to be. That’s what your best friend is: a mirror.

I love you, Mommy,” Marah said. To the world at large, perhaps this was an ordinary moment in an ordinary day, but to Kate it was extraordinary. This was the reason she’d chosen to stay home instead of work. She judged the meaning of her life in nanoseconds, perhaps, but she wouldn’t trade this instant for anything. “I love you, too. That’s why we’re playing hooky for the rest of the day. We’re going to go to a matinee of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.” Marah slid out of the booth, grinning. “You’re the best mommy ever.” Kate laughed. “I just hope you remember that when you’re a teenager.

My dearest Tully— I am so sorry. I know how afraid you are of being alone, of being left behind, but God has His plan for all of us. I would have stayed with you longer if I could have. Your grandfather and I will always be watching out for you from Heaven.

Her teenage daughter was sprouting like a tree, blooming every day into another variation of who she would someday become. Moods twisted her up and left her looking sometimes like a girl who’d just washed up onshore, unable to quite remember who she was and who she wanted to be. Kate