She had stuff to give, but it was ungiven; it was locked away.
And I felt an incredible excitement at being able to witness the love reemerge inside her, because it was a total, prime-of-life love. The kind that could only be possible in someone who was going to die at some point in the future, and also someone who had lived enough to know that loving and being loved back was a hard thing to get right, but when you managed it, you could see forever.
Two mirrors, opposite and facing each other at perfectly parallel angles, viewing themselves through the other, the view as deep as infinity.
Yes, that was what love was for. (I may not have understood marriage, but I understood love, I was sure of it.) Love was a way to live forever in a single moment, and it was also a way to see yourself as you had never actually seen yourself, and made you realize - having done so - that this view was a more meaningful one than any of your previous self-perceptions and self depictions. Even though, the big joke was, indeed the very biggest joke in the universe was, that Isobel Martin believed I had always been a human called Andrew Martin who had been born 100 miles away in Sheffield, and not in fact 8,653,178,431 light years away.
The Humans, P208-209
Matt Haig
ISBN 978-0-85786-876-3
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