words | books

One of my favorite books is Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer – I am in the process of reading it again. It’s a novel you can pick up at different points in your life and receive an entirely different message. It’s a beautifully sad story, and in its sadness, somehow uplifting. The way he uses words and phrases – it’s like a dance. There are so many lines I love, this doesn’t even scratch the surface…

She wants to know if I love her, that’s all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there, like new batteries in the flashlight in the emergency kit in the hall closet.

“There were things I wanted to tell him. But I know they would hurt him so I buried them, and let them hurt me.”

“I like to see people reunited. I like to see people run to each other. I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories the mouth can’t tell fast enough, the ears that aren’t big enough, the eyes that can’t take in all of the change. I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone.”

“They say the human heart is the size of a clenched fist – so I spent all my mornings and nights kissing your hand in hopes that your heavy heart would feel something again.”

“I knew that our time together was almost over, I asked her if she liked sports, she asked me if I liked chess, I asked her if she liked fallen trees, she went home with her father, the center of me followed her, but I was left with the shell of me, I needed to see her again, I couldn’t explain my need to myself, and that’s why it was such a beautiful need, there’s nothing wrong with not understanding yourself.”

“I missed you even when I was with you. That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.”

“I wanted to tell her everything, maybe if I’d been able to, we could have lived differently, maybe I’d be there with you now instead of here. Maybe… if I’d said, ‘I’m so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything,’ maybe that would have made the impossible possible. Maybe, but I couldn’t do it, I had buried too much too deeply inside me. And here I am, instead of there.”

“After a time, I had only a handful of words left… Does it break my heart, of course, every moment of every day, into more pieces than my heart was made of, I never thought of myself as quiet, much less silent, I never thought about things at all, everything changed, the distance that wedged itself between me and my happiness wasn’t the world, it wasn’t the bombs and burning buildings, it was me, my thinking, the cancer of never letting go, is ignorance bliss, I don’t know, but it’s so painful to think, and tell me, what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever bring me? I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.”

“Feathers filled the small room. our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn’t someone, somewhere, laughing?”

2 thoughts on “words | books

  1. DeWitt Edwards

    I understand why you like it Missy.My reading now is limited by aging eyes but in younger years I loved reading. Now I am pretty much limited to reading on the computer where I can increase the font size.


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