Quotes from Lauren Fox

Our distance has lived in me like the aftermath of a bad dream-I carry it around, the knowledge that we were once close, that something was lost; it's the lingering sadness of unfinished business. (18)

The person who knew you best when you were seventeen will always have a claim on you, no matter how much you change. There's something seductive and magnetic about it, the feeling of being understood like that. I suppose it goes both ways. (19)

We all think we're snowflakes, but we're Tinker Toys, held together by our interchangeable parts. (39)

Our hearts are like starfish, regenerating what we've lost. We move forward, regroup, reconfigure; people find ways to be happy.

how when you love someone, you take that person into your body, your fingertips predicting their angles and curves; how you smell like them in the morning.

I'm in a pocket of glowing light, protected from complicated relationships and huge mistakes, past and future.

It's amazing, really, the things two people think they know about each other.

And here's something else I learned: you lose some people that way—fast and blinding. But some people inch away from you slowly, in barely discernible steps. In the end it almost doesn't matter. They're just as gone.

He was fed up with me by then; I knew that: the way my sadness was a suit of armor. How securely I kept him out.

Love was foolish and inevitable. We were just waiting to be shattered by it. The days were finite, full of awe.

This is the truth: You lose some things because you didn't see the darkness rushing toward you. Some things disappear because it all snuck up on you so quickly and quietly, and you weren't paying attention. Okay. But once in a while a loss is preventable. You can stop it. And if you don't, you are to blame. The trick is knowing which is which.

The person who knew you best when you were seventeen will always have a claim on you, no matter how much you change. There's something seductive and magnetic about it, the feeling of being understood like that. I suppose it goes both ways.

But would it be that easy? To adjust my lens a little? To stop wallowing in all this murky sorrow? To change my attitude, let the sunlight in, fix myself?

Death smashes a crater into your life, and you're left alone to sort through the rubble.

I'm a refugee from happiness with nowhere else to go.

If one thing is a secret, everything is

And here's something else I learned: you lose some people that way - fast and blinding. But some people inch away from you slowly, in barely discernible steps.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that this was a moment to pay attention to: this day, this air, these two people. I felt the perfection of the moment and, inside of it, I felt its demise.

I'm just crying because when you eat a five-year-old, the portions are so small.

Can you love a work of art if the person who produced it was truly awful?

We're performing the steps of our oldest dance. And even in this strange, sad, suspended state, I know that we are elegant at it.

Maybe this is hell, I thought: alone in my house in the middle of the night, stuck in an endless loop of thermal discomfort.

A moment of connection was compensation for the repetitive job of being alive.

We were supposed to weather the storms together, but we couldn't…You're not who I thought you were.