“Grief is a most peculiar thing; we’re so helpless in the face of it. It’s like a window that will simply open of its own accord. The room grows cold, and we can do nothing but shiver. But it opens a little less each time, and a little less; and one day we wonder what has become of it.”
—Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
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“…no one is born a great cook,
one learns by doing.”
—Julia Child, My Life in France
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“Tis’ better to live your own life
imperfectly
than to imitate someone else’s
perfectly.”
—Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
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“Anything with the power to make you laugh
over thirty years later isn’t a waste of time.
I think something like that is
very close to immortality.”
—Stephen King, Hearts in Atlantis
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“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends,
but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades
and intonations with each passing moment.
A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.
Waxy yellows, cloud-spot blues. Murky darkness.”
—Markus Zusak, The Book Thief
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“There is something about words.
In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner.
Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk,
and when you are so enthralled you cannot move,
they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts.
Inside you they work their magic.”
—Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale
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“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people
and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?
- it’s the too-huge world vaulting us,
and it’s good-bye.
But we lean forward
to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”
—Jack Kerouac, On the Road
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“I wanted change and excitement
and to shoot off in all directions myself,
like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.”
—Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
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“Summer was our best season:
it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots,
or trying to sleep in the treehouse;
summer was everything good to eat;
it was a thousand colors in a parched landscape.”
—Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird
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Sorry is a question that begs forgiveness,
because the metronome of a good heart won’t settle
until things are set right and true.
Sorry doesn’t take things back,
but it pushes things forward.
It bridges the gap.
Sorry is a sacrament.
It’s an offering. A gift.”
—Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones
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