Quotes from Gabrielle Zevin

Não somos as coisas que colecionamos, adquirimos, lemos. Somos, enquanto estamos aqui, apenas amor. As coisas que amamos. As pessoas que amamos. E estas, acho que estas realmente continuam.

They had only ever discussed books but what, in this life, is more personal than books? Knife.

A place ain't a place without a bookstore.

Let her know you're there. And if you can manage it, bring her a cookie, a book, a movie to watch. Friendship," Marx said, "is kind of like having a Tamagotchi.

Está pensando en su cerebro. Le parece extraño que, aunque no funcione bien, su cerebro vaya a servirle para entender por qué no funciona.

Across the room in Best Sellers, Lambiase is giving a speech that consists of clichés, albeit heartfelt and applicable ones: how A.J. has turned lemons into lemonade, how Maya is a silver-lined cloud, how God's closed door / open window policy really does apply here, and so forth.

The minute she's back to Providence, A.J. calls her on Skype. "I've been thinking. We should have Leon Friedman come sign at the store in August while the summer people are still in town.

No doubt, you are doomed to love again." "Doomed? That's an awful thing to say." "Doomed, blessed. It's only your perspective.

They had only ever discussed books but what, in this life, is more personal than books? Knife. Flatten. Stack. And how rare is it to find someone who shares your tastes?

In his apartment, he finds Maya by herself. Her eyes look moist. "I threw up, Daddy." "I'm sorry." A.J. locates the lighter in his drawer. He slams the drawer shut. "Where's Amelia?" "Are you going to propose?" Maya asks. "No, darling. Not at this particular moment. I've got to deliver a lighter to an alcoholic." She considers this information. "Can I come with you?" she asks.

The profundity of this struck Sadie in this moment—yes, what greater enemy does one have than oneself? And wasn't she to blame for all of this more than Dov? He had said it would be trouble if she came to his apartment, and still she had gone. If someone tells you there will be trouble, believe them.

I want to know your ideas," Sam said. "I really want to know them. I love hearing your ideas. That's my favorite thing in the world.

A.J. notices an Elmo doll sitting on the floor with a note attached to his matted red chest by a safety pin. He sets the baby down and picks up Elmo, a character A.J. has always despised because he seems too needy.

you're stuck, reading helps: "The Beauties" by Anton Chekhov, "The Doll's House" by Katherine Mansfield, "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" by J. D. Salinger, "Brownies" or "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere" both by ZZ Packer, "In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried" by Amy Hempel, "Fat" by Raymond Carver, "Indian Camp" by Ernest Hemingway. We should

We read to know we're not alone. We read because we are alone. We read and we are not alone. We are not alone. My life is in these books, he wants to tell her. Read these and know my heart. We are not quite novels. The analogy he is looking for is almost there. We are not quite short stories. At this point, his life is seeming closest to that. In the end, we are collected works.

A.J. runs their credit cards and concludes that a theft is an acceptable social loss while a death is an isolating one.

Maybe an old favorite like Old School by Tobias Wolff, though his time would certainly be better spent on something new.

Remember, Maya: the things we respond to at twenty are not necessarily the same things we will respond to at forty and vice versa. This is true in books and also in life. —A.J.F.

Though he can't remember how he got there or having taken off his clothes, A.J. wakes in bed wearing only his underwear. He remembers that Harvey Rhodes is dead; he remembers being an asshole to the comely Knightley Press rep; he remembers throwing the vindaloo across the room; he remembers the first glass of wine and the toast to Tamerlane. After that, oblivion. From his point of view, the evening had been a triumph.

She asks A.J. about his lifestyle. He answers the question truthfully. "I'm not what you'd call an alcoholic, but I do like to drink until I pass out at least once a week. I smoke occasionally and I subsist on a diet of frozen entrees. I rarely floss. I used to be a long-distance runner, but now I don't exercise at all. I live alone and I lack meaningful personal relationships. Since my wife died, I hate my work, too.

Sorry, Maya, but it wasn't exactly a pleasure cruise for me either. The quicker you stop shitting yourself, the quicker we don't have to do this.

So I will wait, because I would rather wait for you than waste my time with someone who isn't you.

What kind of pipe is that?" Maya asks. "I have never seen a pipe like that before." A.J.'s first impulse is to cover Maya's eyes, but then he laughs. Had Friedman actually traveled on the plane with drug paraphernalia? He turns to his daughter. "Maya, do you remember when we read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland last year?

She never says she loves a book if she doesn't.