Henry Strauss Quotes in The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
His heart has a draft.
It lets in light.
It lets in storms.
It lets in everything.
That’s the only unsettling part, really—their eyes. The fog that winds through them, thickening to frost, to ice. A constant reminder that this new life isn’t exactly normal, isn’t entirely real.
“Three hundred years,” she whispers. “And you can still find something new.” When they step out the other side, blinking in the afternoon light, she is already pulling him on, out of the Sky and on to the next archway, the next set of doors, eager to discover whatever waits beyond.
“You can’t make people love you, Hen. If it’s not a choice, it isn’t real.”
“What is real to you, Adeline? Since my love counts for nothing?”
“You are not capable of love.”
He scowls, his eyes flashing emerald. “Because I am not human? Because I do not wither and die?”
“No,” she says, drawing back her hand. “You are not capable of love because you cannot understand what it is to care for someone else more than yourself. If you loved me, you would have let me go by now.”
Luc flicks his fingers. “What nonsense,” he says. “It is because I love you that I won’t. Love is hungry. Love is selfish.”
“You are thinking of possession.” He shrugs. “Are they so different? I have seen what humans do to things they love.”
Addie shakes her head. “You see only flaws and faults, weaknesses to be exploited. But humans are messy, Luc. That is the wonder of them. They live and love and make mistakes, and they feel so much.
“Nothing is all good or all bad,” she says. “Life is so much messier than that.”
And there in the dark, he asks if it was really worth it.
Were the instants of joy worth the stretches of sorrow?
Were the moments of beauty worth the years of pain?
And she turns her head, and looks at him, and says, “Always.”
Henry Strauss Quotes in The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
His heart has a draft.
It lets in light.
It lets in storms.
It lets in everything.
That’s the only unsettling part, really—their eyes. The fog that winds through them, thickening to frost, to ice. A constant reminder that this new life isn’t exactly normal, isn’t entirely real.
“Three hundred years,” she whispers. “And you can still find something new.” When they step out the other side, blinking in the afternoon light, she is already pulling him on, out of the Sky and on to the next archway, the next set of doors, eager to discover whatever waits beyond.
“You can’t make people love you, Hen. If it’s not a choice, it isn’t real.”
“What is real to you, Adeline? Since my love counts for nothing?”
“You are not capable of love.”
He scowls, his eyes flashing emerald. “Because I am not human? Because I do not wither and die?”
“No,” she says, drawing back her hand. “You are not capable of love because you cannot understand what it is to care for someone else more than yourself. If you loved me, you would have let me go by now.”
Luc flicks his fingers. “What nonsense,” he says. “It is because I love you that I won’t. Love is hungry. Love is selfish.”
“You are thinking of possession.” He shrugs. “Are they so different? I have seen what humans do to things they love.”
Addie shakes her head. “You see only flaws and faults, weaknesses to be exploited. But humans are messy, Luc. That is the wonder of them. They live and love and make mistakes, and they feel so much.
“Nothing is all good or all bad,” she says. “Life is so much messier than that.”
And there in the dark, he asks if it was really worth it.
Were the instants of joy worth the stretches of sorrow?
Were the moments of beauty worth the years of pain?
And she turns her head, and looks at him, and says, “Always.”
