Top 500 Emily Henry Quotes (2026 Update)
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451. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want you, January – I’ve always wanted you. It just means I also want you to be happy, and I’m scared I could never be the person who could give you that.”

— Emily Henry

452. “The possibility hung in the air: at any time, one of us could have invited the other over, and either of us would have accepted. But neither of us asked, and so things went as they’d been.”

— Emily Henry

453. “His gruff laugh was mostly lost in the wing, but I heard enough of it to make my cheeks go warm.”

— Emily Henry

454. “I fought a smile, stifled a flutter in my stomach. A smile and a flutter weren’t enough for me. I was done with secrets and lies, no matter how pretty.”

— Emily Henry

455. “Oh, no, it wasn’t a medical procedure,” I say. “It was an Etsy spell.”

— Emily Henry

456. “Whatever you are,” I said, “it’s better than a night-light. And for what it’s worth, as a former fairy princess and the ultimate secret soft-girl, I think you’re plenty gentle.”

— Emily Henry

457. “It was a raging party. So apparently the Grump didn’t hate all people, just me. I cupped my mouth around my hands and yelled out the window, “EXCUSE ME!”

— Emily Henry

458. “I had so many questions but all of them were nebulous, unaskable. In my own story, I didn’t want to be the heroine who let some silly miscommunication derail something obviously good, but in my real life, I felt like I’d rather risk that and keep my dignity than keep laying everything out for Gus until he finally came right out and admitted he didn’t want me the way I wanted him.”

— Emily Henry

459. “What if I’m bad at it?” I ask. “Being a parent.” He sweeps my hair back from my neck. “You won’t be.” “You don’t know that,” I say. “I do,” he says. “How?” I say. “Because you’re good at loving,” he says. “And that’s all you have to do.”

— Emily Henry

460. “I feel like I’m finally there, that place I’ve always wanted to be, the other side of the lit kitchen windows I could see from my childhood street, where rooms are filled with love and noise and squabbling.”

— Emily Henry

461. “All day long, I hear myself saying this same phrase, like I’m desperate to get it out of my body even as I feel incapable: I am having a hard time.”

— Emily Henry

462. “I can just tell he doesn’t get it,” Alex said. “Get what?” I asked. “You,” he said. “He has no idea how lucky he is.”

— Emily Henry

463. “I knew how stupid and melodramatic it sounded, but with him, it was always so hard to rein myself in, to say anything but the absolute truth of how I felt. And worst of all, I hadn’t even known that was how I felt until this moment. Alex’s presence had a way of drawing the truth right to my surface.”

— Emily Henry

464. “It’s one thing to accept that the person I love most is fundamentally unknowable to me; it’s another to accept that she doesn’t quite see me either. She doesn’t trust me, not enough to share what’s going on, not enough to lean on me or let me comfort her.”

— Emily Henry

465. “You have made me a new person: January’s father. And I know this is who I will be for the rest of my life.”

— Emily Henry

466. “Then maybe we should enjoy our happy-for-now.”

— Emily Henry

467. “Where his thigh not quite touches mine, it feels like a piping hot knife held against butter.”

— Emily Henry

468. “You’re home to me, Alex. And I think I’m that for you too.”

— Emily Henry

469. “But even so, why did I care what he thought? I shouldn’t need everyone to believe in or want the things I believed in and wanted.”

— Emily Henry

470. “For a while, we’re quiet. I reach over and fold Alex’s hand in mine. “She must’ve been pretty amazing,” I say, “to make a person like you.”

— Emily Henry

471. “Between the three of us, we’d be fine. It’d be fun. Magic. That’s what those days felt like. Not how Libby made it sound. Sure, there were problems, but what about all those days lying on our bellies in the Coney Island sand reading until the sun set? Or nights spent in a row on our sofa, eating junk food and watching old movies?”

— Emily Henry

472. “I mean my dad was a liar, but I loved him. Really loved him, so much that just knowing he isn’t on this planet still tears me in half whenever I think about it.”

— Emily Henry

473. “I used to think it was because people like me don’t get those endings. And asking for it, hoping for it, is a way to lose something you’ve never even had.”

— Emily Henry

474. “The only two ways I’ve ever managed to get out of my head are through reading and rigorous exercise.”

— Emily Henry

475. “The world looks different than I ever thought it could be, and I don’t want to look for what’s broken or what could go wrong. I don’t want to brace myself for the worst and miss out on being with you.”

— Emily Henry

476. “You’re in books. Of course you don’t have a life. None of us do. There’s always something too good to read.”

— Emily Henry

477. “Con: Do I really want my professional nemesis texting me Bigfoot erotica? Pro: Yes I do.”

— Emily Henry

478. “I had to admit there was something singularly hilarious about line dancing angrily.”

— Emily Henry

479. “I hoped that what he was understanding right then was that I saw him. That he didn’t have to do anything special, figure out a mysterious code to unlock the secret parts of him. That he just had to keep being here with me, letting me discover him bit by bit like he’d been doing with me since we met.”

— Emily Henry

480. “January.” He sighed. “Augustus.” “It’s been four minutes. No Uber’s coming. Would you please get in the car?” “I’ll walk.” “Why?” “Because I need the exercise,” I said. “Not to mention the pneumonia.” “It’s like sixty-five degrees out,” I said. “You’re literally shivering.” “Maybe I’m trembling with the anticipation of an exhilarating walk home.”

— Emily Henry

481. “She’s frustrated with how much I work, and that’s creating distance. The distance has her keeping secrets. The secrets have me frustrated with her. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, keeping us locked in an invisible, unspoken argument, wherein we both pretend nothing’s wrong.”

— Emily Henry

482. “Compromises that say, there will be a you-shaped space in my heart, and if your shape changes, I will adapt.”

— Emily Henry

483. “What was?” “Offending you. One syllable. ‘Ah.’ Pretty impressive.” “Offended? This isn’t my offended face. I look like this because I’m tired. My weird-ass neighbor was blasting his crying soundtrack all night.”

— Emily Henry

484. “Better? he asked. It terrified and thrilled me how, with that one quiet word, he could make my insides shimmer, shake me up like a snow globe.”

— Emily Henry

485. “And sometimes I still want them, and other times I’m terrified of what I’d find out.”

— Emily Henry

486. “I loved those nights. They taught me that heartbreak, like most things, was a solvable puzzle. A checklist could guide a person through mourning. There was an actionable plan for moving on.”

— Emily Henry

487. “So all I can do is cry with her. Somehow, it never occurred to me that this was an option: that two people, in the same hug, could both be allowed to fall apart. That maybe it’s neither of our jobs to keep a steel spine. That we can both survive this pain without the other shouldering it.”

— Emily Henry

488. “Somehow, I survived, tender human heart intact.”

— Emily Henry

489. “I’d had the conversation I’d been dreading all summer. I’d gone into the rooms I’d kept closed. I’d fallen in love and felt my heart break, and I’d heard than I wanted to hear, and I was on my feet. The beautiful lies were all gone. Destroyed. And I was still upright.”

— Emily Henry

490. “Happy endings don’t matter if the getting there sucks.”

— Emily Henry

491. “On that first drive back to Linfield, you asked me all these questions about what I liked and what I hated, and I don’t know. It just felt like you really wanted to know.” “Of course I did,” I say. He nods. “I know. You asked me who I was, and – it was like the answer came out of nowhere. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t even exist before that. Like you invented me.”

— Emily Henry

492. “You know, I think my favorite parts of life are the things I didn’t know I wanted.”

— Emily Henry

493. “I hadn’t had a sleepover like that since I was probably eight: the sort where you keep talking, eyes long since shut, until you both drift off midsentence.”

— Emily Henry

494. “This is how grief works. It watches; it waits; it hollows you out, again and again.”

— Emily Henry

495. “The lake froze so far out that we could even walk on it past the lighthouse where my father had once ridden his tricycle into. And what was more, the water froze so high and the snow piled on top of it such that we could walk right up to the top of the lighthouse, stand on it like it was part of some lost civilization underneath us, Gus’s arm hooked around my neck as he hummed, It’s June in January, because I’m in love.”

— Emily Henry

496. “Time to panic?” he asks. “Not yet,” I say. “Try to sleep.” “Because I need to be well rested when I meet Death.”

— Emily Henry

497. “You have the red splotches, Nora,” he teases, drawing his lips over my throat. “Are you mad at me?”

— Emily Henry

498. “That these are the glory days,” Cleo says. “That we’re as close as we used to be, when the truth is, it’s different. We’re different.”

— Emily Henry

499. “Thank you.′ ‘For what?’ ‘Just,’ she says, ’thank you.”

— Emily Henry

500. “I’m not ashamed of my upbringing, but the more you tell a person about yourself, the more power you hand over.”

— Emily Henry