Good. That is it. You will see with your hands, I promise you.

— Jandy Nelson

Grief is a house where the chair shave forgotten how to hold us the mirrors how to reflect us the walls how to contain us grief is a house that disappears each time someone knocks at the door or rings the Bella house that blows into the area the slightest gust that buries itself deep in the ground while everyone is sleeping grief is a house where no one can protect you where the younger sister will grow older than the older one where the doors no longer let you minor out

— Jandy Nelson

How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?

— Jandy Nelson

I can't shove the dark out of my way.

— Jandy Nelson

I'd been making decisions for days. I picked out the dress Bailey would wear forever-a black slinky one- inappropriate- that she loved. I chose a sweater to go over it, earrings, bracelet, necklace, her most beloved scrappy sandals. I collected her makeup to give to the funeral director with a recent photo-I thought it would be me that would dress her;I didn't think a strange man should see her naked touch her body shave her legs apply her lipstick but that's what happened all the same. I helped Gram pick out the casket, the plot at the cemetery. I changed a few kinesin the obituary that Big composed. I wrote on a piece of paper what I thought should go on the headstone. I did all this without uttering a word. Not one word, for days, until I saw Bailey before the funeral and lost my mind. I hadn't realized that when people say so-and-sosnappedthat's what actually happens-I started shaking her-I thought I could wake her upland get her the hell out of that box. When she didn't wake, I screamed: Talk to me. Big swooped me up in his arms, carried me out of the room, the church, into the slamming rain, and down to the creek where we sobbed together under the black coat he held over our heads to protect us from the weather.

— Jandy Nelson

I do find the sibling connection endlessly fascinating, as I do all family dynamics. I like how siblings seem to create their own parentless mini-civilization within a family, one that has its own laws, myths, language, humor, its own loyalties and treacheries.

— Jandy Nelson

I do not want to eat or drink, or I will lose the taste of you in my mouth

— Jandy Nelson

I don't believe time heals. I don't want it to. If I heal, doesn't that mean I've accepted the world without her?

— Jandy Nelson

I don't know how this can be, but it can: A painting is both exactly the same and entirely different every single time you look at it.

— Jandy Nelson

I drop on my back on the bed, panting and sweating. How will I survive this missing? How do others do it? People die all the time. Every day. Every hour. There are families all over the world staring at beds that are no longer slept in, shoes that are no longer worn. Families that no longer have to buy a particular cereal, a kind of shampoo. There are people everywhere standing in line at the movies, buying curtains, walking dogs, while inside, their hearts are ripping to shreds. For years. For their whole lives. I don't believe time heals. I don't want it to. If I heal, doesn't that mean I've accepted the world without her?

— Jandy Nelson