Quotes from Rachel Wetzsteon

The park admits the wind, the petals lift and scatter like versions of myself I was on the verge of becoming; and ten years on and ten blocks down I still can't tell whether this dispersal resembles a fist unclenching or waving goodbye.

A girl can dream, can realize, high on heroines, that she is mortal and therefore fearless; that sanity supplies the ground bass to the wildest singing; that breezes made visible make the finest winds.

Cloud, be my messenger. Soak up the pool outside my window and carry it over fences and forests to the sorrowful house where my loved one waits. You will recognize it by the candle burning in the window. Do not delay! Those other puddles will muddy the message, keep you from getting there fast. Carry, cloud, my love exclusively, over the millions of lifeless clouds, under a guiding invisible hand. from section VI of "Parables of Flight