This simple line on the piano is enough to make me cry, even now, after having read the book and watched the movie, in that order.
and again it’s
with a first line that gives a story away before it even starts:
“What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach, the Beatles, and me?”
This quote was always my favourite, not that one about love meaning you never have to say you’re sorry.
Sure, it starts where it ends really. It was no accidental slip of the tongue. Some might not like it, but it certainly scratched that itch I sometimes have with books, where I want to know how the story will end, but I still read it, in my room until the tears were streaming down my face. It was enough for my mother and brother to come in from the kitchen, where they heard my sobbing, to see if I was hurt.
Her Headache 