Push yourself. Don't Settle. Just live well. Just LIVE.
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Jojo Moyes
Jojo Moyes (born 4 August 1969 in London, England) is an English journalist and, since 2002, a romance novelist. She is one of only a few authors to have twice won the Romantic Novel of the Year Award by the Romantic Novelists' Association and has been translated into eleven different languages. 2Biography 3Life and early career Pauline Sara-Jo Moyes was born on 4 August 1969 in Maidstone, England, the only child of Elizabeth J. McKee, an illustrator, and James C. Moyes, a sculptor. She studied at Royal Holloway, University of London whilst working for the Egham and Staines News. In 1992, she won a bursary financed by The Independent newspaper to attend the postgraduate newspaper journalism course at City University, London. She subsequently worked for The Independent for the next 10 years (except for one year, when she worked in Hong Kong for the Sunday Morning Post) in various roles, becoming Assistant News Editor in 1998. In 2002 she became the newspaper's Arts and Media Correspondent. 3Writing career Moyes became a full-time novelist in 2002, when her first book Sheltering Rain was published. She continues to write articles for The Daily Telegraph. She first won the Romantic Novelists' Association's Romantic Novel of the Year Award in 2004 for Foreign Fruit and again in 2011 for The Last Letter From Your Lover Moyes' publisher, Hodder & Stoughton, did not take up the book Me Before You and Moyes sold it to Pengui
You only get one life. It's actually your duty to live it as fully as possible.
I realized I was afraid of living without him. How is it you have the right to destroy my life, I wanted to demand of him, but I’m not allowed a say in yours?
I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against…
Losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill.
The only way to avoid being left behind was to start moving.
You don't have to let that one thing be the thing that defines you.
I loved a man who had opened up a world to me but hadn’t loved me enough to stay in it.
Sometimes I look at the lives of the people around me and I wonder if we aren’t all destined to leave a trail of damage.
Life is short, right? We both know that. Well, what if you’re my chance? What if you are the thing that’s actually going to make me happiest?
You learn to live with it, with them. Because they do stay with you, even if they’re not living, breathing people any more. It’s not the same crushing grief you felt at first, the kind that swamps you, and makes you want to cry in the wrong places, and get irrationally angry with all the idiots who…
The only way to avoid being left behind was to start moving.
I loved a man who had opened up a world to me but hadn’t loved me enough to stay in it.
It was indeed a gift to have someone to love.
Somewhere in this world is a man who loves you, who understands how precious and clever and kind you are. A man who has always loved you and, to his detriment, suspects he always will.
Nobody fights you like your own sister; nobody else knows the most vulnerable parts of you and will aim for them without mercy.
The ability to earn a living by doing the thing one loves must be one of life’s greatest gifts.
When you put someone down all the time, eventually they stop listening to the sensible stuff.
She was always tired, these days. She put on one of those smiles that wasn’t really a smile at all, and they went on.
Because even if the whole world was throwing rocks at you, if you had your mother at your back, you’d be okay. Some deep-rooted part of you would know you were loved. That you deserved to be loved.