There's a sort of dead passion in him. A spark that, had he more years to live, would be a wildfire. Lauren DeStefano More Quotes by Lauren DeStefano More Quotes From Lauren DeStefano Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. Lauren DeStefano saving-up autumn fall We writers are resilient souls. Lauren DeStefano resilient soul I have always been fascinated by the ocean, to dip a limb beneath its surface and know that I'm touching eternity, that it goes on forever until it begins here again. Lauren DeStefano touching ocean forever We'll squeeze every second that we can from our lives, because we're young, and we have plenty of years to grow. We'll grow until we're braver. We'll grow until our bones ache and our skin wrinkles and our hair goes white, and until our hearts decide, at last, that it's time to stop. Lauren DeStefano wrinkles hair heart Childhood is a long, long road, from which that dark whispering forest of death seems an impossible destination. Lauren DeStefano childhood dark long Words like 'unputdownable' and 'irresistible' are simply not enough for Cat Winters's In the Shadow of Blackbirds. Days after finishing this story, it remains the first thought I have in the morning, and the thing that haunts me until I sleep. Lauren DeStefano cat sleep morning When I am writing anything in general, I just want to tell the story that exists in my head; I don't try to write a parable or make a point. Lauren DeStefano stories writing trying Set fire to the broken pieces; start anew. Lauren DeStefano pieces broken fire I think she's brave. I think that nobody has ever believed what she could be capable of. All her life, nobody was listening. Lauren DeStefano brave listening thinking The madness of youth made me unafraid. Lauren DeStefano youth madness made Suddenly the clouds seem high above us. They’re moving over us in an arch, circling the planet. They have seen abysmal oceans and charred, scorched islands. They have seen how we destroyed the world. If I could see everything, as the clouds do, would I swirl around this remaining continent, still so full of color and life and seasons, wanting to protect it? Or would I just laugh at the futility of it all, and meander onward, down the earth’s sloping atmosphere? Lauren DeStefano ocean clouds moving Time was our very first king. We all live our lives to the aggressive ticking of the clock. We don't question that our lives are a grid of seconds; even our pulses oblige. No succeeding king can hope to hold this kind of power. Lauren DeStefano pulse kings firsts We accept gods that don't speak to us. We accept gods that would place us in a world filled with injustices and do nothing as we struggle. It's easier than accepting that there's nothing out there at all, and that, in our darkest moments, we are truly alone. Lauren DeStefano injustice struggle world We are stronger than we've credited ourselves to be. We have been the victims and the witnesses. We have said a lifetime of good-byes. Lauren DeStefano stronger lifetime bye They never exhale, the trees; on a very windy day, they rustle and inhale, and then the leaves and the branches all tremble as though something means to strangle the life from them. The sky watches on. The world is filled with anticipation, as if to wonder if this day will be a great day, or a horrible day, or the last day. Lauren DeStefano sky tree mean It taught that there are three versions of things: the one I see in my mind, and the one that carries onto the paper, and then what it ultimately becomes. Lauren DeStefano three paper mind Even the human race can't claim to be natural anymore. We are fake, dying things. How fitting that I would end up in this sham of a marriage. Lauren DeStefano fake dying race I always knew I was an excellent liar; I just didn't know that I had it in me to fool myself. Lauren DeStefano fool excellent liars I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die. Lauren DeStefano daughter long children Her mind is a bird that's trapped inside her skull, flapping and thrashing, never breaking free. Lauren DeStefano skulls mind bird
