Magic for Liars: A Novel

It was a feeling like nostalgia, but for something I’d never done. Something I’d never had.

The thing about me is, I let things go. I let people go. I don’t know how to hang on to them—I try, but I hold too tight or not tight enough or something in between and they go. They always go.

Walls too high to ever turn into bridges.

I’ve always been good at letting silence put down roots.

I’ve never been good at recognizing what moments are important. What things I should hang on to while I’ve got them.

There are more interesting things to be done with words.

I tried not to feel temporary. Just for a few seconds. But trying not to feel something isn’t the same as not feeling it, and I knew it was just a matter of time before I was alone again.

If you need to hurry, her oft-repeated saying went, you’re already too late.

There was something in the flavor of it that spoke to a desperate lostness,