all from donna tarttâs 2013 novel . feel free to change pronouns etc
if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesnât it?Â
we donât get to choose our own hearts. we canât make ourselves want whatâs good for us or whatâs good for other people. we donât get to choose the people we are.
stay away from the ones you love too much. those are the ones who will kill you.
you can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again. you can also look at a picture for a second and think of it all your life.
sometimes we want what we want even if we know itâs going to kill us.
when you feel homesick, just look up. because the moon is the same wherever you go.
as long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how.
psst, you. hey kid. yes you.
no way forward but age and loss, and no way out but death.
whatever teaches us to talk to ourselves is important: whatever teaches us to sing ourselves out of despair.
fate is cruel but maybe not random .
who was it that said that coincidence was just Godâs way of remaining anonymous?
we are so customed to disguise ourselves to others that, in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.
none of us ever find enough kindness in the world, do we?
Iâm hoping thereâs some larger truth about suffering here, or at least my understanding of it.
it was involuntary, hopeless, compulsive.
for years she had been the first thing I remembered when I woke up, the last thing that drifted through my mind as I went to sleep, and during the day she came to me obtrusively, obsessively, always with a painful shock.
I missed her so much I wanted to die.
why do I care about all the wrong things, and nothing at all for the right ones?
where does it ever say, anywhere, that only bad can come from bad actions? maybe sometimesâ the wrong way is the right way? you can take the wrong path and it still comes out where you want to be?
Iâd stopped myself from blurting the thing Iâd never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying out loud to him in the street - which was, of course, I love you.
hard to put things right. you donât often get that chance. sometimes all you can do is not get caught.
maybe I only see a pattern because Iâve been staring too long.Â
one drink is too many and a thousandâs not enough.
I canât think of a better way to go insane.
even the tiniest things mean something.
letâs both be good, and truthful, and kind to each other, and letâs be happy together and have fun always.
how can I see so clearly that everything I love or care about is illusion, and yetâfor me, anywayâall thatâs worth living for lies in that charm?
bad artists copy, good artists steal.Â
