51 Quotes by Cristiane Serruya

He kissed her lustfully. Mindlessly.Senselessly.

Widowed were not those alive, but those who were dead.

Crying didn’t solve any problems, but not crying hadn’t proven particularly effective, either. She’d always thought it weak to indulge in tears, but nothing else seemed to answer for the situation.

That’s what life is all about. The obvious. The minute we start layering it with shades of grey, we start getting caught in quicksand.

No matter how hard she tried to maintain her calm and collected persona, she knew it was all a ruse. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide. Hide from the world. Hide from her memories. Enter a shell and never leave. But hers would always be a broken shell, with all her cracks and holes exposed for the world to see. The veneer she had carefully painted to protect and hold herself together was peeling away.

He laughed, rested his forehead on hers, and whispered on her lips, “You have stars in your eyes.”“I can see fine through them.” She smiled at him. “They just brighten things up.

Sometimes the guilty one is not the person who has committed the crime, but the person who has created the possibility for it to be committed.

Don't cry. She wouldn't like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don't want my daddy sad. I'm sure you don't want your daughter sad, too.

Young widows are always a painful sight to see. Jilted brides are even more pitiful than young widows—at least widows had been loved and cherished.