I want you, Delilah Anne. Never doubt that. I want a life with you. With your voice and your touch and your thoughts and your arguments. I want your grace and your mistakes and your promises and your everything, all twisted up with mine. I want it so bad that I feel like I can’t breathe whenever I think about being without you.
Don't you believe I love you? Don't know how I can make you believe. I didn't want to kiss you goodbye-that was the trouble-I wanted to kiss you goodnight. […] Of course I love you. I love you all the time. […] I'd like to hold you and kiss you so that you wouldn't doubt whether I wanted to or not.
His dear face, dear to her, dearer still. how could she love his face more for its damage? What kind of person saw someone's suffering and felt her heart crack open even wider, even more sweetly than before?
There was something wrong with her. It was wrong to want to touch a scar and call it beautiful.
The will of God is sweet tonight, altogether ‘good and acceptable and perfect.’ The considerate love of the Lord Jesus for us seems such a kind thing now. I know it has always been so, but somehow I didn’t see how wise it was when it didn’t seem kind… Remind me of this when I cannot regard His love as considerate some time.