Age has given me the gift of me, it just gave me what I was always longing for, which was to get to be the woman I’ve already dreamt of being. Which is somebody who can do rest and do hard work and be a really constant companion, a constant tender-hearted wife to myself.
Mattie was in love with Daniel, of course; this was the X within the circle on her map: I love Daniel.
There is cracks, cracks, in everything, that’s how the light gets in.′ I had cracks but not the hope.
Sam was alternately distant and clingy and mean, because I am the primary person he banks on and bangs on. I stayed close enough so he could push me away. Sadie slowly floated off.
He is a writer. He makes the rest of them nervous.
When the ancient Egyptians finished building the pyramids, they had built the pyramids.
When you love something like reading – or drawing or music or nature – it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great.
It is funny how no one seems to want my always excellent advice.
If you are mesmerized by televised stupidity, and don’t get to hear or read stories about your world, you can be fooled into thinking that the world isn’t miraculous – and it is.
Disaster usually happens for me when everything I have counted on has stopped working, including all my best skills, intentions, and good ideas.
The way I dance is by writing.
Life on earth is a head-scratcher for anyone who’s paying attention. This place has been a bad match for me since I was four.
It was never meant to be permanent. You must have known the tide would come back in.
And because she did not shove this down my throat, this dawned on me.
Everyone was on God’s payroll, whether they knew it or not.
I started to cry then, and I cried for a long time without making much noise. I cried and cried like a little kid.
How are we going to get through this craziness?′ I asked. There was silence for a moment. ‘Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe,’ he said.
Mark Twain said that Adam was the only man who, when he said a good thing, knew that nobody had said it before.
I felt changed and a little crazy. But though I was still like a stained and slightly buckled jigsaw puzzle with some pieces missing, now there were at least a few border pieces in place.
Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong. It is no wonder if we sometimes tend to take ourselves perhaps a bit too seriously.