En Eski Ren and Della Sözleri ve Alıntıları
En Eski Ren and Della sözleri ve alıntılarını, en eski Ren and Della kitap alıntılarını, etkileyici sözleri 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.
Romance comes and goes, lust flickers and smoulders, trials appear and test, life gets in the way and educates, pain can derail happiness, joy can delete sadness, togetherness is more than just a fairy-tale…it’s a choice.
A choice to love, cherish, honour, trust, and adore.
A choice to be there when arguments occur, and agony arrives, and fate seems determined to rip you apart.
A choice to choose love, all the while knowing it has the power to break you.
A choice, dear friend, to give someone your entire heart.
It’s not easy.
No one ever said it was.
Some days, you want it back, and others, you wish you had more than just one heart to give.
Love is the hardest thing we’ll ever have to do because love, as miraculous and wonderful as it is, is also cursed and soul-breaking.
Because of love, life is a war of moments and time and bargaining for more of everything.
But in the end, love is what life is about.
And love is the purpose of everything.
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I walked back home. I ate, I watched TV, I did some homework, and I went to bed.
I did all that.
I, I, I.
Me, me, me.
And not once did anyone suspect that my world had just fallen apart.
Not once did I cry.
Not once did I scream.
I bottled it all up—the heartache, the agony, the bone-deep cracking—and I swallowed it down like a pill I didn’t want to take.
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That’s the worst kind of torture, isn’t it? The horror where every outcome and scenario delivers a happier one than the life you’re currently living.
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The memories nick my heart with their tiny, painful blades—giving me a thousand cuts until I bleed out slowly. It’s so slow, I don’t even notice I’m dying.
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God, the pain never gets any easier to bear.
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Turns out, I’m not the only one nursing a chronic case of a broken heart.
We all were.
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I feel him everywhere.
I think about him all the time .
And yes, that had to be in bold because it’s a nightmare I can’t stop.
I thought I’d accepted his disappearance.
I thought I was stronger than this.
But, I’m not.
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Why can’t I exist one day—just a single day—where I don’t want to tell Ren what happened at school, or laugh with him about something stupid, or ask his advice on something important?
He was a part of my life ever since I can remember.
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The difference of loving someone and being in love, Ren, is loving someone can be full of obligation and self-denial. But being in love makes you selfish and greedy and hungry . It turns you into a self-serving monster because you can’t breathe unless you have the one person you need.
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I want to keep some structure in my life, and writing things down is it.
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And I knew, without a shadow of a fucking doubt, I would never be whole again unless I had Della.
She was it for me.
I belonged to myself no more.
I’d officially handed over my life, and
I was done fighting.
Forever.
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Life is so fast and stuffed full of surprises that I’m afraid if I don’t write them down, they’ll disappear just as child amnesia deletes your earliest memories.
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I’m not just in love with you, Della. You’re the only reason I’m alive. Loving you gave me purpose. And now you’ve completed me by giving me something I never dared dream of, so to answer your question, yes, I’m happy. So fucking happy I’m going to explode.
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“Being in love really is a disease."
“Love’s a disease?”
He nodded.
“When I’m with you, I have the cure. I feel stronger, happier, invincible. But when I’m not, I feel as if life itself could delete me, and I wouldn’t care.”
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Funny how memories like that—the ones that are so simple and stupid—are the ones that stick in your head with such clarity you can transport back to every smell, heartbeat, and yearning.
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