Taylor Jenkins Reid Quotes

David clinks his wineglass to mine and smiles at me. You know what? Without the parsley there to distract you, it's quite a smile. It's bright white and streamlined. His face is handsome in a conventional way, all cheekbones and angles. He's not so attractive that you'd stop traffic to look at him. But neither am I. He's just a humbly good-looking guy. Like, if he were the new doctor in a small town in the Midwest, all the local women would schedule an appointment. He's that kind of attractive. His glasses sit comfortably on his nose, as if they have earned the right to be there.

No matter how strong you are, no matter how smart you are or tough you can be, the world will find a way to break you. And when it does, the only thing you can do is hold on.

True love doesn’t always last,” I say. “It doesn’t always have to be for a lifetime.” “Right. And that doesn’t mean it’s not true love,” Jesse says. It was real. And now it’s over. And that’s OK. “I am who I am because I loved you once,” he says. “I am who I am because I loved you once, too,” I say. And then we say good-bye.

I know there may be universes out there where I made different choices and they led me somewhere else, led me to someone else. And my heart breaks for every single version of me that didn't end up with you.

I think that perhaps everyone has a moment that splits their life in two. When you look back on your own time line there's a sharp spike somewhere along the way, some event that changed you, changed your life more than the others. A moment that creates a before and an after. Maybe it's when you meet your love or you figure out your life's passion or you have your first child. Maybe it's something wonderful. Maybe it's something tragic. But when it happens it tints your memories, shifts your perspective on your own life and it suddenly seems as if everyone you've been through falls under the label of pre or post.

I find myself smiling, finally. I guess I do remember how to do it. You just turn the corners of your mouth up.

Sweetheart, I’m telling you, you love someone like that, you love them the right way, and no time would be enough. Doesn’t matter if you had thirty years,” she tells me. “It wouldn’t be enough.

I once thought that grief was chronic, that all you could do was appreciate the good days and take them along with the bad. And then I started to think that maybe the good days aren't just days; maybe the good days can be good weeks, good months, good years. Now I wonder if grief isn't something like a shell. You wear it for a long time and then one day you realize you've outgrown it. So you put it down.