Best 24 quotes of Corey Ann Haydu on MyQuotes

Death always feels far away from life, until it isn’t.

Even the worst things about Devonairre Street are better than the rest of the city.

Even when everything hurts, even when other cities are exploding and people we love are disappearing, there’s still space for sweet things.

Everyone else’s Minute of remembering is over, but ours stretches on and on. It doesn’t end.

Feelings are like blankets, covering you up so you can't see clearly, or like mazes you can too easily get lost inside. I am terrified of getting lost.

If you love someone and they vanish, you are left nodding like a zombie and throwing teacups at a wall.

I guess I wonder what it would be like, to be living their live instead of mine.

I hate the way the world feels when love is gone

It’s incredible how small the English language gets when you’re trying to make it fix something.

It's like, I'm scared and there're a lot of ugly things, but I'd rather be shipwrecked on this lovely island than safe in a sad, gray cell.

It sounds like love just sort of happens, whether you want it to or not, whether you’re married or not.

On our own, we’d look totally normal. Together, we’re something else. Together, we’re special.

Sleep comes, no matter how deep the sadness cuts. It’s like a gift from the universe.

Sometimes it's a comfort to tell the same stories over and over; sometimes it's a torture

Sometimes words I think are small come out big.

...The human mind is a complicated place...We hold on to things, images, words, ideas, histories that we don't even know we're holding on to.

The laws of physics say if there’s a party, Isla will eventually end up dancing on a table.

This is another awful truth of losing people you love: everyone needs something different. And the needs almost never match up.

Torture: knowing something makes no sense, but doing it anyways.

We are LornaCruzCharlotteDelilahIsla and we aren’t afraid of love, even if we’re supposed to be.

We don’t smile, but we something. We something. It hurts, the way a deep connection to someone who isn’t yours sometimes does.

We have to give up so many things when the people we love die. So we hang on to other familiar things.

We’re all a little broken, on the sidewalk. On the street. In the city.

You never know what’s going to be in the garden in June when you’re looking at it in January.