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"When you're starved of something you should receive in abundance, you never quite trust it"
Nine perfect strangers - Liane Moriarty
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We have plenty to eat and new clothes and when we all sit around the dinner table, we try to knit our lives together, dropped stitches and all.
The Great Alone, Kristin Hannah
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His eyes were the same as they had been. Faces change with life's toll, but eyes remain a window to what was, and she could see him there.
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And just at that second, the wind picked up, and thousands upon thousands of yellow sycamore leaves broke from their life support and streamed across the sky. Autumn leaves don't fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this their only chance to soar. Reflecting sunlight, they swirled and sailed and fluttered fluttered on the wind drafts.
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They still have time to become who they are going to be.
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His eyes were grey and clear but always slow to show emotion. He had long perfected the art of staring through people, leaving conversations to follow his daydreams through the back of their heads and out any open window.
Shuggie Bain - Douglas Stuart
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When you went into somebody else's world, you had to enjoy how their life was, not bring your world into theirs.
- all the young men, Ruth Coker Burks
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He drew back that bow and aimed that arrow straight into the heart of anyone who hadn't loved him enough.
- all the young men, Ruth Coker Burks
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"I'm Sorry," he mumbled, shame-faced, and kicked his chair leg a little, before adding in such a low voice that it could hardly even be heard: "I just wanted to know what it felt like to be someone you look at."
A man called ove - Fredrik Backman
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"And Ove realised that he wanted to hear her talking about the things she loved for the rest of his life. He had never heard anything quite as amazing as that voice. She talked as if she was continuously on the verge of breaking into giggles. And when she giggled she sounded the way Ove imagined champagne bubbles would have sounded if they were capable of laughter."
A man called Ove - Fredrik Backman
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his dark eyes had turned that same unnamable gray that only the very young or the very old possess: the color of the sea from which one comes, the color of the sea to which one returns.
A little life - Hanya Yanagihara
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On one site is everything he knows, the patterns of his existence as regular and banal as the steady plink of the dripping faucet, where he is alone but safe, and shielded from everything that could hurt him. On the other side are waves, tumult, rainstorms, excitement: everything he cannot control, everything potentially awful and ecstatic, everything he has lived his adult life trying to avoid, everything whose absence bleeds his life of color. Inside him, the creature hesitates, perching on his hind legs, pawing the air as if feeling for answers.
A little life - Hanya Yanagihara
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“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -  Emily Dickinson
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Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest - William Shakespeare
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Why wasn't friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn't it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified. Friendship was witnessing another's slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs. It was feeling honored by the privilege of getting to be present for another person's most dismal moments, and knowing that you could be dismal around him in return.
A little life - Hanya Yanagihara
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I met people who, for whatever reason, decided to be my friends, and they taught me - everything, really. They made me, and make me, into something better than I really am. You won't understand what I mean now, but someday you will: the only trick of friendship, I think, is to find people who are better than you are - not smarter, not cooler but kinder, and more generous, and more forgiving - and then to appreciate them for what they can teach you, and to try to listen to them when they tell you something about yourself, no matter how bad - or good - it might be, and to trust them, which is the hardest thing of all. But the best, as well.
A little life - Hanya Yanagihara
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But these were days of self-fulfillment, where settling for something that was not quite your first choice of a life seemed weakwilled and ignoble. Somewhere, surrendering to what seemed to be your fate had changed from being dignified to being a sign of your own cowardice. There were times when the pressure to achieve happiness felt almost oppressive, as if happiness were something that everyone should and could attain, and that any sort of compromise in its pursuit was somehow your fault.
A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihara
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