Lucia Love Quotes

My love was alive, not because I was loved, but because I myself loved!

We are unhappy because we think that love is something we require from someone else.

There was Layla in the fullness of her lips, Lulu in the thick waves of her hair, Lu Xin in the intensity of her hazel eyes, Lucia in their twinkle. She was not alone. Maybe she never would be alone again. There, in the mirror, was every incarnation of Lucinda staring back at her and wondering, "What is to become of us? What about our history, and our love?

What? Who are you marrying?” His jaw tightened.“Princess Cleiona Bellos.” Lucia could not believe her ears. “This has been arranged.” Magnus gave her a look.“Oh, not at all. Since helping to take her father's kingdom and destroy her life,I couldn’t help but fall madly in love with her. Yes,obviously it was arranged.

But what bothers me is that I only accidentally noticed them. What else have I missed? How many times in my life have I been, so to speak, on the back porch, not the front porch? What would have been said to me that I failed to hear? What love might there have been that I didn't feel?

Oh, Lucia the captain said softly, you are so little and so lovely. how I would have liked to have taken you to Norway and shown you the fiords in the midnight sun, and to China- what you've missed, Lucia, by being born too late to travel the Seven Seas with me! And what I've missed, too.

One thing I do know about death. The “better” the person, the more loving and happy and caring, the less of a gap that person’s death makes.

I love houses, all the things they tell me, so that's one reason. I don't mind working as a cleaning woman. It's just like reading a book.

Us. All regrets, left them in the sea, smiling at life as if it was a beautiful dream, because if one thing is certain, clearing the strange foreigh steam. Like the diamond ring that fits in your finger, we are stronger as a steel linker

He was sin, a man wild with lust, and I loved that I was the reason for it.

Everything comes down to this: the reason for every word I have written and every word I will write. I am recounting my life for you so that you may know this secret without the pain of discovering it: We are unhappy because we think that love is something we require from someone else. Our salvation depends on a simple gesture that is nonetheless the most difficult act we can perform: We must give away the thing we most long for. Not to receive but to give.

I believe in the fatal hairdo just for the love of saying fatal hairdo.

If the rainbow had an eighth color, it would be you.

She loved him enough for the both of them.

The lack of a father leaves a hole in a woman’s heart, Lucia. A girl needs to feel she is protected; she needs masculine energy to develop trust in men and later to be able to give herself in love.

I need you to scry for Lousha," he said. "You told me once that you could." "Yeah, I can get you in her vicinity." Garreth had taken Lucia's scent into him and could find her from miles away. "That'll work." Witches could come in handy, he supposed. "But I don't do gratis." Garreth bluidy hated witches! "Charge me what you will! Just give me the fucking coordinates." In the background, he heard Bowen say, "Mari, never let it be said that I doona support your extortion--" "Entrepreneurial-ness," she corrected. "But a family discount, love, would no' be amiss." "The whole family? Fine," she said. "I'm scrying." While Garreth waited, she groused about how extended the "MacRieve pack" was.

When people are filled to the brim with love, they are their most beautiful.

Most people suffer in love because of attachment. We are interested in getting a net return on our investment. –Unplugging the Patriarchy

The way we understood love started with pain. Our love story wasn't an easy one, so our ending wouldn't be either.

Cherokee Saying - Love only has one eye - not two.

What if our bodies were transparent, like a washing machine window? How wondrous to watch ourselves. Joggers would job even harder, blood pumping away. Lovers would love more. God damn! Look at that old semen go! Diets would improve-- kiwi fruit and strawberries, borscht with sour cream.

Abandoned? Alia…” She raised her hands to halt his words. She could do this. She could be biddable and calm. Fighting the words at the tip of her lips, she took a quiet breath.

He was a man who did everything the right way –with honor

A kiss was unspoken words tangled with raw feeling.

I love you' means many things,' she said. 'It is like that sparrow.' She pointed to a tiny bird flying across the path of the setting sun into the pine trees. 'If love comes to us, we must let it land. But we must also be prepared to let it go.

I closed my eyes and I thought of the lash of her skirt snapping around her as she danced one evening in a bar on the South Side to a jukebox that was playing “Barefootin’,” of the downy slope of her neck and the declivity in her nightgown as she bent to wash her face in the bathroom sink, of a tuna salad sandwich she’d handed me one windy afternoon as we sat at a picnic table in Lucia, California, and looked out for the passage of whales, and I felt that I loved Emily insofar as I loved those things – beyond reason, and with a longing that made me want to hang my head – but it was a love that felt an awful lot like nostalgia.

I always found in myself a dread of west and love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say, unless it could be that morning came over the peaks of the Gabilans and the night drifted back from the ridges of the Santa Lucias. It may be that the birth and death of the day had some part in my feeling about the two ranges of mountains.

You'll always be my girl. You were from the first moment I saw you. You were sitting in church with your brothers. You were eight years old, and I was twelve, and I thought, I hope she waits for me. Lucia, I'll wait forever if I have to.

Deux très sérieuses tragédies se succèdent presque toujours dans la vie des êtres : le manque et l'excès d'amour.

Lucia opened the door. "They say not to discuss politics and religion on the first date." “Well, then.” I gave her a huge smile. “We’re screwed.

Maybe it wasn't that everyone else was more loved, but that everyone else tried. Or that if you knew you were loved, it was easier to try.

That's what you are, though. You're a fucking whore who I just happened to fall in love with.

Ter refused to ride buses. The people depressed him, sitting there. He liked Greyhound stations though. We used to go to the ones in San Francisco and Oakland. Mostly Oakland, on San Pablo Avenue. Once he told me he loved me because I was like San Pablo Avenue. He was like the Berkeley dump. I wish there was a bus to the dump. We went there when we got homesick for New Mexico. It is stark and windy and gulls soar like nighthawks in the desert. You can see the sky all around you and above you. Garbage trucks thunder through dust-billowing roads. Gray dinosaurs.

James?" "Hmm?" My jaw trembles. "Make love to me?" "Sweetheart, I've been making love to you all along.

Dara sadar, kebebasan juga adalah penjara. Setiap pilihan tidak bebas dari konsekuensi.

When I asked "How are you," she answered with a report on Lucia or her boyfriend, Jim, who was also intermittently in recovery. No, how are you, I wanted to say, but I thought the distinction would be lost on her.

Why couldn't they love the place, same way, together, the way he always loved her, even with his sore? Love Helen like a wife in good and bad weather, in sickness and in health, its beauty in being poor? The way the leaves loved her, not like a pink leaflet printed with slogans of black people fighting war?

A small red face ringed in soft black curls looked up at him for one moment, registered that he wasn't the milk-providing parent, and erupted back into a howl. There was no telling Lucia that she was a pebble on the shores of eternity. She was a living, breathing, adorable source of chaos, and he loved her so much that it felt as if his heart were beating outside his body.

Standing over his bed, watching him sleep, Luce could see it. The way their love would have bloomed here.She could see Lucia coming in to bring Daniel his meals,him opening up to her slowly. The pair being inseparable by the time Daniel recovered. And it made her feel jealous and guilty and confused because she couldn't tell right now whether their love was a beautiful thing, or whether this was yet another instance of how very wrong it was. If she was so young when they met, they must have had a long relationship in this life.She would have gotten to spend years with him before it happened. Before she died and was reincarnated into another life completely. She must have thought they'd spend forever together-and must not even have known how long forever meant. But Daniel knew.He always knew.

His wings burned and he felt ashamed. This life in Italy had been a dark and ugly death for her. One of the worst. He would never stop blaming himself for the horrible way she had passed out of this life. But that was years after where Daniel stood today. This was the hospital where they'd first met, when Lucia was so young and lovely, innocent and saucy in the same breath. Here she had loved him instantly and completely. Though she was too young for Daniel to show he loved her back,he had never discouraged her affection. She used to slip her hand inside his when they strolled under the orange trees on the Piazza della Repubblica,but when he squeezed her hand,she would blush.It always made him laugh,the way she could be so bold, then suddenly turn shy.She used to tell him that she wanted to marry him someday. "You're back!" Daniel spun around. He hadn't heard the door behind him opening. Lucia jumped when she saw him. She was beaming, showing a perfect row of tiny white teeth. Her beauty took his breath away. What did she mean,he was back? Ah, this was when he'd hidden from Luce,frightened of killing her by accident. He was not allowed to reveal anything to her; she had to discover the details for herself. Was he even to hint broadly,she would simply combust. Had he stayed,she might have grilled him and perhaps forced the truth out of him...He didn't dare.

Men told Lucia I was lovely looking, but completely cold. Why cold? I let them kiss me when they must, in cabs, dancing in hot nightclubs, at parties. They were not real. Neither was the office. Clothes were real. I bought many clothes so that, when Peter called up, I could say “come over instantly” and I would be marvellously dressed. I dressed carefully, always, because I might meet some friend of Peter’s, who would go back to him and say, “I saw Patricia; she was looking beautiful.” Then he would call up sooner.

She ran her hands, butterfly fashion, over the keys. "A little morsel of Stravinski?" she said. It was in the middle of the morsel that Adele came in and found Lucia playing Stravinski to Mr. Greatorex. The position seemed to be away, away beyond her orbit altogether, and she merely waited with undiminished faith in Lucia, to see what would happen when Lucia became aware to whom she was playing. . . . It was a longish morsel, too: more like a meal than a morsel, and it was also remarkably like a muddle. Finally, Lucia made an optimistic attempt at the double chromatic scale in divergent directions which brought it to an end, and laughed gaily. "My poor fingers," she said. "Delicious piano, dear Adele. I love a Bechstein; that was a little morsel of Stravinski. Hectic perhaps, do you think? But so true to the modern idea: little feverish excursions: little bits of tunes, and nothing worked out. But I always say that there is something in Stravinski, if you study him. How I worked at that little piece, and I'm afraid it's far from perfect yet.

But Linda and Bob are good, old friends. I feel their warmth even though they aren't there. Come and blueberry jelly on the sheets. Racing forms and cigarette butts in the bathroom. Notes from Bob to Linda: "Buy some smokes and take the car ... dooh-dah dooh-dah." Drawings by Andrea with Love to Mom. Pizza crusts. I clean their coke mirror with Windex. It is the only place I work that isn't spotless to begin with. It's filthy in fact, Every Wednesday I climb the stairs like Sisyphus into their living room where it always looks like they are in the middle of moving.

Do I have to give you hair torture to get it out of you?” What is that? From the light in her eyes and the jaunty uptick of her mouth, I had a sense it would be pleasurable. “Do what you must.” In a dash, she pinned my wrists above my head. Her head dipped and her thick hair engulfed me, sweeping across my face and filling my mouth. “Nooo!” I half-heartedly pressed against her hold. “Give it up, Dane.” I could hear the laughter in her voice. “Never!” I thrashed my head from side to side, trying to breathe through the black curtain blinding and drowning me. “You’re killing me!” “Jeez, you take this even worse than Matty.” I groaned. “With a sister like you, I feel sorry for him.” There was a sharp rap on the door. “Are you okay in there?” China asked. Lucia glanced at me, and we both cracked up.

Top Dog" If I could, I would take your grief, dig it up out of the horseradish field and grate it into something red and hot to sauce the shellfish. I would take the lock of hair you put in the locket and carry it in my hand, I would make the light strike everything the way it hit the Bay Bridge, turning the ironwork at sunset into waffles. If I could, I would blow your socks off, they would travel far, always in unison, past the dead men running, past the cranes standing in snow, beyond the roads we rode, so small in our little car, it was like riding in a miner's helmet. If I could I would make everyone vote and call their public servants to say, “No one was meant for this.” I would go back to the afternoon we made love in the tall grass under the full sun not far from the ravine where the old owner had flung hundreds of mink cages. I would memorize gateways to the afterworld, the electric third rail, the blond braid our girl has hanging down her back, the black guppy we killed at our friends’ when we unplugged the bubbler and the fish floated to the top, one eye up at the ceiling, the other at the blue gravel on the bottom of the tank. I would beg an audience with Sister Lucia, the last living of the children visited by Our Lady of Fatima, I would ask her about the weight of secrets, if they let her sleep or if she woke at night with a body on her body, if the body said, “Let's play top dog, first I'll lie on you, then you lie on me.” I would ask how she lived with revelation, the normal state of affairs amplified beyond God, bumped up to the Virgin Mother, who no doubt knew a few things, passed them on, quietly, and I would ask Lucia how she lived with knowing, how she could keep it under her hat, under wraps, button up, zip her lip, play it close to the vest, never telling, never using truth as a weapon.

On the way to Washington Square she thought to herself that some kid would probably fall off the slide and cut his lip. Later, in the park, Matt fell from the swing and cut his lip. Cassandra held a Kleenex to the cut, fought back her own tears. What's the matter with me? What more do I want? God, let me just see the good things. She forced herself to look around, out of herself, and, in fact, the cherry blossoms were in bloom.They had been coming out little by little, but it was that day they were lovely. Then, as if because she saw the trees, the fountain turned on. Look, Mama! Matt cried and began to run. All the children and their mothers ran to the sparkling fountain. The postman walked right by it as usual. He seemed not to notice that it was on, got wet by the spray. One/two. One/two.

Is it wrong to want someone who isn't constantly pushing me away for once? Who isn't trying to keep me at arm's length? Maybe not.

You look rather thirsty," a voice says from behind me, and I turn to face Benediction de la Lucia--the Devil himself. He is a striking man; his long, orange-red hair is as bright as a tropical sunset, and his skin is like freshly-fallen snow. His large, expressive eyes hold all colors, and I feel myself being drawn into them. "G-good evening," I stammer. "I was just looking for--" "I know whom you seek," he purrs "although I was hoping that you would agree to spend a little time with me, first." He tucks a wad of bills into my vest pocket and drapes his arm around my shoulder. "I would be happy to, Lord de la Lucia," I smile, grasping him around the waist. "Do you Hunger?" His eyes glide up and down the line of my body, and I feel a strong desire to swoon. "Always," he murmurs "and please...call me Beni'." The room is spinning, and reality is fading fast...I press my face against his chest and strive to cling to consciousness. He sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to one of the bedrooms, where he feeds from me...and all of a sudden, he is atop me, his snow-white wings outstretched. I feel as if I will die--the pleasure and pain are so intense. I can feel myself bleeding out and being reborn, over and over upon that silken bed, every nerve of my body alive with his essence. We are almost like one, body and soul...and then he pulls back and looks down into my eyes. "You want something," he leers at me "or is it someone?" He sniffs the air. "I can smell it on your sex, My Darling! Don't be afraid to ask, young one--that's why I came to you! Love falls under my realm, Dearest...the human heart is full of darkness, yes?" I curse at him in Japanese and try to push him off of me, but he holds me fast. "Don't be so rude, Darling! I only want to help you! Matthieu-Michele can't do anything for you--he's simply out of his league! He's only a young God, still finding his footing! I am older than the ages, and I know what love is! I know the agony and the ecstasy and the razor's scar that it leaves upon the heart! I know of the poison and the betrayal and the all-consuming obsession! I have ridden the crest and scrabbled in the desolate valleys! I know what you want...I know whom you love...and I can make it happen for you--for a price." "I don't make deals with the Devil," I hiss at him from between clenched teeth...

In another time, another world, that ring would be on your finger and you would not be fighting me. I would be making love to you all day, every day. I would not be with her.

Don't stress about the small shit. It won't mean anything in the end. Focus on what's important, the big picture. Your love of gymnastics. Just do you and you'll be okay.

PART 3 THIS QUOTE OF MINE IS EXCLUSIVELY CONCERNED WITH WAR - HOW IS IT , THAT THIS CHRONIC DISEASE OF HUMAN MISERY HUMAN EXISTENCE IS AFFLICTED WITH IS OMNIPRESENT AND CONTINUES TO GROW IN ALL THIS PROSPERITY OF TODAY ? AND THE WORLD IS HEADING FOR A NEW WAR THANKS TO POLITICIANS SUCH AS PUTIN ! ! THE WHOLE WORLD IS WATCHING AS THE HORRORS OF WAR ONCE AGAIN - NOBODY INTERVENING YET WE ARE ALL ONE WORLD COMMUNITY ! - ARE UNFOLDING BEFORE THEIR VERY EYES ! , BEFORE EVERYONE'S EYES THIS INDIFFERENT THEY ARE ALL ARE TO '' LIFE '' ! MAN HAS LEARNED NOTHING FROM THE PAST ! WERE ARE THOSE FEW PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL CAPABLE OF THOUGHT TO PUT A STOP TO THIS MADNESS , TO STAND FOR REASON AND LOVE OF PEACE , FOR DOES NOT EVERYBODY SPEAK OF LOVE ? , INSTEAD OF HEADING WITH A BLIND OBSESSION AND FANATICALLY FOR THE NEXT WAR IN MODERNITY ? , AS A MATTER OF FACT , AS FANATICALLY AS THOSE CONVICTIONS THEY HOLD FAST TO ! WHERE ? WHERE IS REASON ? WHERE IS LOVE OF PEACE TO BE FOUND ? THOSE ENDORSING NOTHING BUT WAR , SIDING WITH THE VERDICT OF REACTIONARY VIEWS WHICH CAN NO LONGER BE DESIGNATED HUMAN AS THE EFFECT OF THEIR ALLEGIANCE TO '' TRUTH'' AND '' LOVE '' AND SUCHLIKE FOR THEM NOT TO BE IN A BAD TEMPER , WHICH THEY ARE ANYWAY , INVARIABLY SO ! HOW IS ALL THAT POSSIBLE WITHIN SOMETHING THAT IS SO FOND OF VIEWING ITSELF AS '' HUMANE '' , PART OF WHICH IS TO SUBSIDE INTO PROFOUND THEORIES TO MAKE FOR MORE '' HUMANE QUALITY OF LIFE '' ? AND I KEEP ASKING MYSELF : WHERE DO I LIVE WHEN ALL THIS ATROCITY IS BROUGHT ABOUT WITHOUT ANY REMORSE ? WHO IS YET CAPABLE OF THINKING IN THIS WORLD ? WHO IS TO MAKE A CLEAN SLATE AT LENGTH BY TELLING THE TRUTH ABOUT MAN ? GIVE YOUR LIKES TO YOUR SUPERSTARS AND TO YOUR POLITICIANS WHOM YOU VOTE FOR THEM TO EFFECT MORE AND MORE WARS AND TO TEACH YOU HOW TO WAGE WARS AS PART OF YOUR EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS FOR YOU TO BECOME '' THE SCHOLARS OF WAR '' ! , AND GIVE THEM TO ALL THOSE OTHER FALSE IDOLS THAT YOU ADORE AND CANNOT RENOUNCE LEST MORTAL DREAD SET IN AND ENRICH THEM BY YOUR STUPIDITY , YOU UNCOMPROMISING CAMP FOLLOWERS , YOU WHO ARE NOT ODIOUS TO YOURSELVES WITH YOUR INSATIABLE UNREASONING COMPLACENCY IN HAVING DESECRATED WHAT IS HUMAN ONCE AND FOR ALL ! I WANT NONE OF YOUR LIKES EVER IN THE UNLIKELY EVENT THAT SOMEONE SHOULD ACTUALLY READ THIS ! AND IF THIS IS NOT THE TRUTH ON WAR THEN SOMEONE NEEDS TO EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT WAR IS ! LIFE ? LOVE ? PEACE ? FREEDOM ?...

Tidak ada orang yang lahir di dunia tanpa alasan, tidak ada orang yang lahir dan tidak bisa mewujudkan setidaknya satu hal, apapun itu.

I always found in myself a dread of west and a love of east. Where I ever got such an idea I cannot say, unless it could be that the morning came over the peaks of the Gabilans and the night drifted back from the ridges of the Santa Lucias. It may be that the birth and death of the day had some part in my feeling about the two ranges of mountains.

To be loved so profoundly and manage to still give it in return is a feeling one would never understand unless they lived it fully. This is what life is all about and the meaning behind why we're here. I

When I say I love you more, it's because I can't imagine you can feel more than what I already do.

My mother always put my happiness before hers. She lived a lonely life so I could live a full one. She never married, never fell in love, never went out with girlfriends, never went on holiday,

I hate to see anything lovely by myself.

Hannah is heartbroken—obsessed with the woman she saw kissing her man. In fact, she doesn’t even know whether Brandon was ever her man. She’s haunted by memories of blissful hours spent in his arms. But even if it kills her, she has to make the decision to let him go.   Thrill Book 4 Hannah is blissfully caught up in the attention of her Dom, living the perfect life. Only one thing is missing…one little sentence that would change it all. I love you. Will Brandon ever find the courage to utter those words? And if he doesn’t, will Hannah have to walk away?   CLICK HERE to get your copy of the COMPLETE SERIES

We’re living in a generation where lying is the new truth, loyalty is a tattoo and love is just a quote. - Unknown

And so began the years of my internment, where I was locked away from all human things, imprisoned in my solitude like Rapunzel imprisoned in the tower. I knew instinctively that I was still very much alive within the tomb, that what was good and kind and loving and generous in me still existed in the very depths of my being, buried beneath layers of fire and ice. But I also knew that I was incapable of rising from the tomb myself, of bursting forth on my own through the thick layers that surrounded me. It was as if a spell had been cast; the only thing that could break it now was a human word, a human touch. Which never came.

Au début, c'était comme si j'éprouvais en moi ce que je déclenchais en elle.

This was the hospital where they'd first met, when Lucia was so young and lovely, innocent and saucy in the same breath. Here she had loved him instantly and completely. Though she was too young for Daniel to show he loved her back, he had never discouraged her affection. She used to slip her hand inside his when they strolled under the orange trees on the Piazza della Repubblica, but when he squeezed her hand,she would blush. It always made him laugh, the way she could be so bold, then suddenly turn shy. She used to tell him that she wanted to marry him one day.

I love you.” He planted a kiss on my collarbone. “I love you most.” “You skipped more.” “It wasn’t enough.

I’m not sure. I mean, he might be confused but, I don’t know, I just think if he loved me, like really loved me, I’d know because when it comes down to it, love’s not really a choice.

I drank him in, not worried in the least that someone would see the way my love for him shone. His hand slowed, and he stilled. I chewed on my lip waiting as a veil of familiarity brought me home. He lifted his eyes, and I caught the faintest curl at the corners of his lips. "Malysh.

Make love to me," I whisper. "I already told you, sweetheart. I've been making love to you the whole time.

We took a risk on a love that was against the odds before it started, and we were stubborn enough to win.

Thinking too far into the future was a problem for me. I loved looking at job listings, internship ideas in careers I'd never dipped a toe in, real estate websites that showed rent I couldn't afford. I wanted to be chosen, or to choose–maybe I wasn't sure of the difference yet. I saw choices glimmering outside my reach, and I wanted badly to get closer.

Hinder played in the background, "Lips of an Angel," a song that I actually loved. In the quiet I listened to the lyrics clearly and understood why he liked it too. It could have been our anthem. Wanting to remain faithful to the one you chose versus yearning for the one you wanted. It was us wrapped up in a heartbreaking ballad.

reading The Beautiful Summer by Cesare Pavese and Rosamond Lehmann’s Dusty Answer, and on seeing the following films, whose titles I felt the need to list before starting to write: Wanda, Love Is My Profession, Sue Lost in Manhattan, Girl with a Suitcase, and After Lucia, which I just saw last week.

The first love pain never goes away, right? A yearning, the longing that would always be there, lingered within her heart.

People come into our lives for a reason. Sometimes to help us guide our way for a short period of time and other times to stay. Whether they're meant to be there for a month, two months or four years, they're there. Maybe you came to let me know I can feel love again. Who knows? Only time will tell.

Him. Lionel. Did she ever love him, I wonder? All the attention and favoritism… did it ever endear her to him? Or did she spend our childhood trapped in a different sort of box, always pretending, surviving? - Lavina Lucia on her thoughts of her Sister

In the vast expanse of the ever twisting universe, many often seek for their gods in the crevices of fallen stars; in the remnants of dead power and inside the heart of the deceased loved ones. They assume the gods are hiding, that their sanity blasting forms are not to be beholden in direct sight. Therefore, many are under the impression that the gods will slip through the cracks of the fleeting moments you have averted your gaze from their radiance. That, then, they will find you with their thorns and cruel fists and you will say 'but I have believed! I have always believed!', and it will never be enough.

This is not me fucking you, this is me making love to you, because, Ya lyublyu tebya, malysh. Ya lyublyu tebya.

I love that you marked me. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to tear your clothes off and have you do it while I fucked you.

Sejak peristiwa itu, Dara merasa tidak menjadi dirinya sendiri. Tubuhnya seperti sudah melawan akal sehatnya. Dan ia membiarkan akalnya kalah.

True love was love for the self; it was acceptance and appreciation of the self. No other love, whether amorous or platonic, could substitute for it. It was only that love of self that would fill the void and give the heart sustenance

I love you,” I breathe out. “I have loved you on the days you told me I couldn’t. I have loved you on the days that I shouldn’t. And I will love you for all the days to come.” Epilogue Gael ONE YEAR LATER “Okay, but when Lucia said ‘Can we go to Disneyland every year, Uncle Jordan.

The love affair between Lisa and Tony was inevitable, or so Tony said. Cheaply predictable, Paul said. Benjamin said nothing at all. She was nineteen years old. Not to excuse her, just that she was at an age that needs a good talking to. She loved it when Tony said things like “We were meant for each other. Our eyebrows both grow together in the middle…” One night when Benjamin came home she said, “Ben. I want words! I want words! I want a word with you!” He looked at her. He took off his bow tie and the nine ruby studs from his tuxedo shirt. He took off his jacket and his shoes and sat down next to her on the rollaway bed. “Babs,” he said. (He used to call her Babs.) He was silent then, taking off his pants and shorts and socks. He sat naked on the bed, tired, and she knew what a good man he was. “I’m a man of few words,” he said. He held her head in his piano-playing hands. “I love you,” he said. “I love you with all my heart. Don’t you know that?” “Yes,” she said and she turned over and cried herself to sleep.

I love her so goddamn much, Lucias, I just want what’s best for her.” “Then be what’s best for her.

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