Quotes from Marisa de los Santos

No one is ever quite ready; everyone is always caught off guard. Parenthood chooses you. And you open your eyes, look at what you've got, say Oh, my gosh, and recognize that of all the balls there ever were, this is the one you should not drop. It's not a question of choice.

It's a well-known fact. All women are clinically insane, but especially ballet dancers. Psycho. extremely psycho. Trust me.

Even if someone wasn't perfect or even especially good, you couldn't dismiss the love they felt. Love was always love; it had a rightness all its own, even if the person feeling the love was full of wrongness.

Jimmy Stewart is always and indisputably the best man in the world, unless Cary Grant should happen to show up.

Happiness isn't what happens when you whistle along, pretending bad things don't exist. . . Happiness is earned, like everything else. It's achieved.

People in love feel that way all the time, like they don't know what they've done to deserve each other.

But some things, no matter how unlikely, are just supposed to happen. You know what I mean. Some things just smack of the future and feel part of an overarching rightness.

There's a kind of holiness to love, requited or not, and those people who don't receive it with gratitude are arrogant beyond saving.

We talked and talked and talked. Maybe love comes in at the eyes, but not nearly as much as it comes in at the ears, at least in my experience. As we talked, lights flicked on inside my head; by the end of the night I was a planterium.

There are people whose deaths make you ache with sadness. And then there are people whose deaths prevent the sun from rising, deaths that turn the walls black in every room you walk through, deaths that send storm clouds and a wail swirling through your head so that you can't hear music and you can't recognize your furniture or your own face in the mirror.

I don't think love is blind, true love is probably the most clear-eyed state of being there is.' 'Maybe you're right. Maybe with true love, you see and you love anyway…

I can't stand lies. Probably no one can. Probably everyone is, to varying degrees, allergic to them, both spiritually and physically. Lies make me feel low and ignoble, and also itchy, like there's sand under my skin. The only thing that feels worse than hearing a lie is telling one.

I don't think love is blind, but wanting to be in love, that's probably blind.

But sometimes, a boat needs to rock; a boat needs to head straight for the heart of a storm and come out on the other side, weather beaten but with flags flying.

Yes, it's true, what I said earlier: A real life doesn't mean geting what you want; the achievement, the privilege, too, is knowing what you love.But getting what you love? Having what you love love you back? Oh, my friend, it's miracle: your one tiny life's head-on collision with divinity.

Sometimes, happiness feels so fragile…So what do we do about it?...Live. Forget that it's fragile. Live like it isn't

What do you do when you're in love with the last man in the world you can have? You plan a life, a real life, without him.

In certain situations, you can't worry about how people will react. You just have to be as honest as you can and let what happens afterward happen.

I stand here on this spring day in the center of my life. Chaos, din, and beauty. For a moment, I am still.

Everything turned on the word we, a synonym for love, the thing that saves us all.

If you're going to rip someone off, it might as well be Audrey Hepburn.

Since you left there's been a you-shaped space beside me, all the time. It never goes away.

You know what he said? He said that being away from me is less like being away from a person than being away from other people is. I don't know anyone else who would say something like that. And he was right. When we were apart, I missed him all the time, but he didn't feel faraway. He felt closer than the kids at school.... Certain people are like that, I guess. They're together no matter where they are. They just belong to each other.

Magic can happen in a car, a warm, intimate magic born of being in an enclosed, particular place and, simultaneously, being nowhere, passing throu. No one leaves her troubles behind, not really, but you can believe you have. You can believe you're in an inbetween space where trouble can't find you. . . .