46 Quotes About Celeste-ng

His parents never go out or entertain; they have no dinner parties, no bridge group, no hunting buddies or luncheon pals. Like Lydia, no real friends.

He didn't know what exactly he wanted to say—I'm sorry, I didn't mean it—only the ever-deepening regret at how things were turning out between them, the desperate and impossible desire to go back to the way things had been.

He can't know what it was like, not the first time, not the last. He can guess, but he won't ever know, not really. What it was like, what she was thinking, everything she'd never told him. Whether she thought he'd failed her, or whether she wanted him to let her go. This, more than anything, makes him feel that she is gone.

More insidious than those moments of outright hostility, though, and maybe more powerful, are the constant, low-level reminders that you're different. Many of us feel different in some way, but it's really jarring when one of your differences is obvious at a glance—other people can tell you're different simply by looking at you . . . Even when you feel like you belong, other people's reactions—even stares and offhand remarks—can make you feel that you don't, startlingly often.

I remember a distinct sense of restlessness in the air while I was growing up, a feeling that if you wanted an exciting or important or interesting life, you needed to escape.

There was no room left in her for anger. Something within her tipped and cracked.

All she could think was: I will be here forever. I will never be able to get away.

Lydia felt her heart in her chest like a pellet of ice, sliding down out of reach.

All she has left are things unwanted, things unloved.