all the best love stories are yet to be written...
"There aren't any right words. You don't even love me. You know you don't. They asked you on All Hallows' Eve if there was a woman you loved, and you said there wasn't."
I've never thought of it like that," said Christopher. "How could I? If you were any other woman, I could tell you I loved you, easily enough, but not you --- because you've always seemed to me like a part of myself, and it would be like saying I loved my own eyes or my own mind. But have you ever thought of what it would be to have to live without your mind or your eyes, Kate? To be mad? Or blind?" His voice shook. "I can't talk about it. That's the way I feel."
Well. That's right up there with Captain Wentworth's "You pierce my soul," to Anne in Persuasion for me.
I've been rereading a lot of classics, trying to feel my way out for several stories - all of them to do with Cho & Cedric of course (I have fallen hard for them, and I don't see it ending any time soon), and I guess I'm stuck on endings. How love stories end, how I want them to end - realistically versus romantic fantasy endings - that people walk away not necessarily with the love of their life, or how you can have more than one love of your life - it's a long time, this life. Usually. Or, you get what anybody gets - you get a lifetime.
And I'm thinking about how this applies to failed teenage romances, how Cedric's seventeen years of living might have prepared him for what might have only been six months of something with Cho, but he leapt in feet first anyway, because he didn't know. And how we, as readers, do know and that's the tragedy - that it is a life unfinished.
Mostly I'm trying to figure out cupid zombies and how to make them work.