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“We're inches apart yet worlds away.”
― Meagan Spooner, This Shattered World

“He can’t take his eyes off the stars, but I can’t take mine off his face. I can see the stars reflected in his eyes, can see the wonder of it in the way his mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes, his face—they’re beautiful.”
― Amie Kaufman, This Shattered World

“You’ve ruined me,â€� she repeats, her voice quieting a little as it catches. “You’ve ruined me—you made me wake up. And now I can’t get rid of you.â€� Her voice surges again as I reach out, curling my hand around her arm, her skin flushed hot under my fingers. “You won’t leave me alone.”
― Amie Kaufman, This Shattered World

“What does it mean?â€� Flynn turns to gaze at me, eyes finally meeting mine.

I find myself smiling because I know exactly what it means. “It means the clouds are clearing on Avon.”
― Amie Kaufman, This Shattered World

“It rang and it rand and it rang. I looked at the screen one last time, then at Stuart, and then I reached my arm back and threw the phone as hard as I could (sadly, not that far), and it vanished into the snow. The eight-year-olds, who were truly fascinated with our every move at this point, chased after it.
'Lost it,' I said. 'Whoops.”
― Maureen Johnson, Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances

“Flynn’s reaction is electric, for all he only moves an inch, straightening, gazed fixed on the sky overhead. Though his eyes are on the clouds, I can’t help but watch his silhouette in the darkness. The way his mouth is set, the hope and determination there—the strength of his shoulders, the energy in the way he gazes skyward. The breeze stirs his hair, and I find myself transfixed.”
― Amie Kaufman, This Shattered World

“He knows,"I said. "I tell him everything"
"Does that go both ways?" he asked.
"Does what go both ways?"
"You said you tell him everything," he replied. "You didn't say we tell each other everything”
― ‎Maureen Johnson, Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances

“She hadn’t always been obsessed with babies. There was a time she believed she would change the world, lead a movement, follow Dolores Huerta and Sylvia Mendez, Ellen Ochoa and Sonia Sotomayor. Where her bisabuela had picked pecans and oranges in the orchards, climbing the tallest trees with her small girlbody, dropping the fruit to the baskets below where her tías and tíos and primos stooped to pick those that had fallen on the ground, where her abuela had sewn in the garment district in downtown Los Angeles with her bisabuela, both women taking the bus each morning and evening, making the beautiful dresses to be sold in Beverly Hills and maybe worn by a movie star, and where her mother had cared for the ill, had gone to their crumbling homes, those diabetic elderly dying in the heat in the Valley—Bianca would grow and tend to the broken world, would find where it ached and heal it, would locate its source of ugliness and make it beautiful.
Only, since she’d met Gabe and become La Llorona, she’d been growing the ugliness inside her. She could sense it warping the roots from within. The cactus flower had dropped from her when she should have been having a quinceañera, blooming across the dance floor in a bright, sequined dress, not spending the night at her boyfriend’s nana’s across town so that her mama wouldn’t know what she’d done, not taking a Tylenol for the cramping and eating the caldo de rez they’d made for her. They’d taken such good care of her.
Had they done it for her? Or for their son’s chance at a football scholarship?
She’d never know.
What she did know: She was blessed with a safe procedure. She was blessed with women to check her for bleeding. She was blessed with choice.
Only, she hadn’t chosen for herself.
She hadn’t.
Awareness must come. And it did. Too late.
If she’d chosen for herself, she would have chosen the cactus spines. She would’ve chosen the one night a year the night-blooming cereus uncoils its moon-white skirt, opens its opalescent throat, and allows the bats who’ve flown hundreds of miles with their young clutching to their fur as they swim through the air, half-starved from waiting, to drink their fill and feed their next generation of creatures who can see through the dark. She’d have been a Queen of the Night and taught her daughter to give her body to no Gabe.
She knew that, deep inside.
Where Anzaldúa and Castillo dwelled, where she fed on the nectar of their toughest blossoms.
These truths would moonstone in her palm and she would grasp her hand shut, hold it tight to her heart, and try to carry it with her toward the front door, out onto the walkway, into the world.
Until Gabe would bend her over. And call her gordita or cochina. Chubby girl. Dirty girl.
She’d open her palm, and the stone had turned to dust.
She swept it away on her jeans.
A daughter doesn’t solve anything; she needed her mama to tell her this.
But she makes the world a lot less lonely. A lot less ugly.
â€�&°ù»å±ç³Ü´Ç;
― Jennifer Givhan, Jubilee

“The Jubilee is a message
of hope in the midst of darkness, of new life out of death, of the
wicked being removed from power and the meek inheriting the Kingdom.”
― Enoch Lavender, The Jubilee: Discover The End Time Mystery

“The first time Jubilee used my first name, I was betraying everyone I care for and realizing I was falling in love with the girl who killed my family. But now his name rolls off her tongue with ease. I clench my jaw and avert my eyes, unable to watch her gazing up at him any longer.”
― Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner, This Shattered World

“I move toward her, unable to resist; her eyes are wet, her face flushed, and I can finally look at her, want her, let myself touch her without grief turning everything to ashes in my mouth.

“You’ve ruined me,� she repeats, her voice quieting a little as it catches. “You’ve ruined me—you made me wake up. And now I can’t get rid of you.� Her voice surges again as I reach out, curling my hand around her arm, her skin flushed hot under my fingers. “You won’t leave me alone.�

I scan her features, my eyes trying to make up for too much time spent trying not to look at her. I can’t look away. “You think I want to be here with you?� I reply, my voice hoarse. “You think if you walked out right now, I’d chase you?�

She gazes back at me, her eyes a challenge. “Wouldn’t you?�

“You know I would,� I snap, surrendering. “And I have no idea why that’s such a problem.�

She jerks her arm free and backs up a step until she hits the door. “It’s a problem because I’d let you!â€� she blurts. Then, after a harsh breath, she murmurs, “It’s a problem because I’d want you to.”
― Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner, This Shattered World

“If all the stars sank back into the White Sea, there would be no space for thee. For we are the jubilee of when eternity could see. A memory of what was, and suns could be.”
― H.S. Crow

“25:10. a jubilee: you shall go back, each to his possession. In the law of the jubilee, YHWH commands that every fifty years all property is to return to the original owners. This appears to be an economic program designed to prevent the feudal system, common in the rest of the ancient Near East, from developing in Israel. That is, it functions to prevent the establishment of a class of wealthy landowners at the top of the economic scale and a mass of landless peasants at the bottom. Every Israelite is to be apportioned some land (described in the books of Numbers and Joshua), and the deity commands that in every fiftieth year the system returns to where it started. If an Israelite has lost his ancestral land as a result of debt or calamity, he regains ownership of it in the jubilee year. Land is unalienable. Individuals can suffer difficult times, but there is a divinely decreed limit to their loss, and the nation as a whole can never degenerate into a two-tiered system of the very rich and the very poor.”
― Richard Elliott Friedman, Commentary on the Torah

“Israel was to the let the land rest every seven years. For 490 years, they disregarded this divine plan (Jeremiah 17:27). In 2 Chronicles 36:20-21, after God's people were taken away into exile, the land enjoyed its sabbath rest until seventy years were completed. God collects His debts.”
― T.F. Tenney, The Main Thing...Is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing

“She knew what they thought was happening. She knew what they thought.
But here’s what she saw. Once upon a time, there was a girlchild. A brand new girlchild, smiling. So innocent, so new. Her mama held her tightly, and she was safe. The end.
After all, Jesus rose again, didn’t he? And his mama must have held him. Mother Mary in a teal robe, clinging to her child—Pietà turned beautiful. Restored to babe in arms.
Bianca’s daughter had returned. Her Jubilee. And she wouldn’t let her go.”
― Jennifer Givhan, Jubilee

“The bioluminescence—the wispfire—washes the face with an eerie, soft light. Unsettling, but beautiful too. When I tilt my head back, my vision is flooded with blue-green stars, filling me with a strange, sweeping vertigo. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the stars that these seem brighter, more real. But at least I remember stars. At least I’ve seen the sky.”
― Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner

“This place can't break me because I have no heart to break.”
― Amie Kaufman & Meagan Spooner

“The word gospel simply means ‘good newsâ€�. By the time of
Jesus� ministry, this word was pregnant with prophetic meaning and
expectation.”
― Enoch Lavender, The Jubilee: Discover The End Time Mystery

“In Ancient Israel, the sounding of the Jubilee Trumpet would have
caused boundless joy, as across the nation, slaves were set free, the poor
were released from their debts, and everyone was free to return to their
homes and ancestral possessions. [This] is a prophetic foretaste of the much greater joy to come in the restoration that Jesus will bring
upon His return.”
― Enoch Lavender, The Jubilee: Discover The End Time Mystery