“Being must be felt. It can't be thought.”
“and i can't stand the idea of being alone.i can't bear the thought of being free.”
“I thought that this must be what purgatory was like. Can't go forward. Can't go back. Awaiting some official judgment.”
“I CAN'T FORGET. I'M INCAPABLE. THAT MUST BE NICE, BEING ABLE TO FORGET. IS IT NICE?”
“I can't stand the thought of you being anything other than deliriously happy. With me.”
“The lift of her heart she'd felt on the outcrop she now felt again, and it wasn't just love. She'd felt love before, known its depths when her mother died.This was something rarer. Happiness, Laurel thought, that must be what this is.”