81 Quotes by Marisa de los Santos

I know how syrupy this sounds, how dull, provincial, and possibly whitewashed, but what can I do? Happy childhoods happen.

It’s just that without wanting to or trying to – and for years I was deliberately trying not to – I held on to love. Or it held on to me. Not active love; not love, the verb form. It was more just there, a small, unshakable thing, leftover, useless, as vestigial as wisdom teeth or a tailbone, but still potent enough so that when I heard his voice on the phone, my heart gave a tiny jump of hope that made me want to slap it.

In my experience, people love what they love. They just do.

Still Dev missed him. Not all the time or even very often, but now and then, missing would hit Dev, throw him off balance, a sudden, undeniable ache to know his father, how his voice sounded, what his face did when he read the paper or looked at his son. And the missing wasn’t fair; it wasn’t earned. In fact, the missing, the searching, the imagining were so unfair that when you put them all together, they looked a lot like betrayal.

Maybe love comes in at the eyes, but not nearly as much as it comes in at the ears...

A real life doesn’t mean getting what you want; the achievement, the privilege, too is knowing what you love.

Clare concentrated on the words trying hard to press them into her memory and wishing they were solid objects that she could keep and carry around with her.

You mean you’re not on your way home?” asked Pen. Will could hear the joy in her voice. “Not unless you mean you,” he told her. “I’m on my way to you.

What do you do when you’re in love with the last man in the world you can have? You plan a life, a real life, without him.