I heard a sigh, as though the books were breathing. I felt that this was where I belonged. This was where I lived.
Are people drawn to each other because of the stories they carry inside?
Avoid men who call you Baby, and women who have no friends, and dogs that scratch at their bellies and refuse to lie down at your feet. Wear dark glasses; bathe with lavender oil and cool fresh water. Seek shelter from the sun at noon.
You can try to take sorrow and make it into something enduring, meaningful and beautiful. I always feel guilty that this is my job, that I get to do this.
Do what you want, do what you will, do what you have to, do what you think you cannot.
If I hadn’t learned my lesson, I would have wished we could stay there forever. But I knew better now. We’d seen what we’d come to see. The way to trick death. Breathe in. Breathe out. Watch as it all rises upwards, black and blue into the even bluer sky.
Fairytales were maps formed of blood and hair and bones; they were the knots of the sub-conscious unwound. Every word in every tale was real and as true as apples and stones. They all led to the story inside the story.
Others said May was best, that sweet green time when lilacs bloomed and gardens along Main Street were filled with sugary pink peonies and Dutch tulips.
I always quit at three when my kids come home from school so I feel pretty spoiled.
Every time I finish a book, I forget everything I learned writing it – the information just disappears out of my head.
I never plot out my novels in terms of the tone of the book. Hopefully, once a story is begun it reveals itself.
I think we are bound to, and by, nature. We may want to deny this connection and try to believe we control the external world, but every time there’s a snowstorm or drought, we know our fate is tied to the world around us.
Even in times when it’s difficult to figure out, how do you go forward, art – and books – always help.
He started to look at me in a manner I recognized: it was the way I looked at a new book, one I had never read before, one that surprised me with all it had to say.
Sometimes they would sit in the parlor together, both reading – in entirely separate worlds, to be sure, but joined somehow. When this happened, other people in the family couldn’t bring themselves to disturb them. All that could be heard in the parlor was the sound of pages, turning.
Always keep mint on your windowsill in August, to ensure that buzzing flies will stay outside, where they belong. Don’t think the summer is over, even when roses droop and turn brown and the stars shift position in the sky. Never presume August is a safe or reliable time of the year.
If we had paid attention, we would have understood there are some things in this world you cannot outrun.
Even as a small child, I understood that woman had secrets, and that some of these were only to be told to daughters. In this way we were bound together for eternity.
I wept to think that life went on even when so much had been lost, that rain still fell and myrtle grew between the rocks.
I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.