But it turns out Joy is a house built from the same bricks as Sorrow. Pleasure is a poem, and it uses the same words as Pain.

— Julio Alexi Genao

Don’t tell me not to drink. Not to smoke. Not to grieve. If I speak of these things it’s because I have to— but I am not speaking to you.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I couldn’t make myself move from the bed. To reach for you. I’d known this moment was coming, and now that it had arrived I found I had no strength in my limbs. Only my voice. Only words. Asking you to stay.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I didn’t know what

— Julio Alexi Genao

If the worst you can say about an otherwise sweet-nature and pleasant romance novel is that the main characters are just too wholesome to suit you and your bitter, bitter, cat-infested, 7-years-friendless-and-romantically-barren life, you should probably just eat a fucking cupcake and settle in to wait for El Señor to take you away from this place on the wings of angels who all bear a marked resemblance to a young Rob Lowe.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I gave you all my secrets, and you lost them all. You lost a lot of things. But the treasure of it was in the giving, not the keeping.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I know you’ve forgotten me, but I’ll remember you as long as I live.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I loved you even when you forgot me. And—for a little while—you loved me back.

— Julio Alexi Genao

I’m nothing, here. A lowly surveillance analyst. Being the hero could have meant something good for me. Could have changed my whole

— Julio Alexi Genao

I wanted to take your hand into mine and kiss it. I never dared.

— Julio Alexi Genao