And so I sit on the dunes in my carefully mismatched clothes, hour after hour, day after day, frozen in my looking back. 'Do not look behind you...lest you be swept away.' That is what scripture say....
The tide, you see, is a fickle thing: stealing in, sliding away, always, always turning. She comes when you're not looking, a silent, liquid thief, only to rush away again, retreating from the shore l...
There was certainly plenty in her own past that she was reluctant to look at. Because looking made it real.
Sometimes it just is what it is, Wade. There are things we can change and things we can’t. The key is knowing the difference.
There’s something very healing about the sea. I’m always calmest when I’m near the water,
The instant her foot touched the driveway, like
There are things we can change and things we can’t. The key is knowing the difference.
Vulnerable. It wasn’t a word she liked the sound of. It was a weak word. A needy word. And she didn’t want to need anyone.
Sometimes grown-ups cry when they’re happy. That’s what I’m doing. I’m crying because I’m happy.
How can you not believe in never? It’s just a word. No, Missy said firmly. It isn’t. It’s all the doors we keep shut. It’s the places we won’t let ourselves go, the things we won’t let ourselves have...
She said the word never represents all the doors we keep closed, that when we say never we close ourselves off from the hope that things can ever be different.
Doors didn’t open on their own. You had to choose to open them, to consciously cross the threshold and glimpse what lay beyond.
Men like Stephen don’t cheat because they’re missing something at home, Christy-Lynn. They cheat because they’re missing something inside, so they take what they want and make it theirs, because they...
The word never represents all the doors we keep closed, that when we say never we close ourselves off from the hope that things can ever be different.
Learned to keep my distance at an early age. A survival mechanism, you might say. I’m working on it, though. Another thirty years and I should about have it mastered.
Her eyes were open and glazed, a piercing shade of violet with fixed, bottomless pupils.
Easier isn’t always best.
Dreams are like public service announcements from your soul. The only way to get past them is to pay attention to what they’re telling us.
But belonging to someone and giving yourself to them were two very different things. One formed out of need, a tidy arrangement mutually beneficial to both parties, while the other involved laying you...
At the age of sixteen, she had slipped out of a house in the middle of the night and run for all she was worth. Now, twenty years later, she was running again.
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