Many trees have died so that the Catholic Church can preach against homosexuality.
When you’re pregnant, you can think of nothing but having your own body to yourself again; yet after giving birth you realize that the biggest part of you is now somehow external...
Have you ever really held the hand of someone you love? Not just in passing, a loose link between you – but truly clasped, with the pulses of your wrists beating together and your fingers mapping the knuckles and nails like a cartographer learning a country by heart?
Religion was supposed to be a blanket drawn up to your chin to keep you warm, a promise that when it came to the end, you wouldn’t die alone – but it could just as easily leave you shivering out in the cold, if WHAT you believed became more important than the fact THAT you believed.
Imagine waking up one morning and finding a piece of yourself you didn’t even know existed.
After years of seeing the world in absolutes, he has taught me how to pick out all the shades of possibilities.
But I think half the battle is figuring out what works for you, and I am much better at being a mother than I ever would have been as a lawyer. I sometimes wonder if it is just me, or if there are other women who figure out where they are supposed to be by going nowhere.” – My Sister’s Keeper.
A woman isn’t all that different from a bonfire. A fire’s a beautiful thing, right? Something you can’t take your eyes off, when it’s burning. If you can keep it contained, it’ll throw light and heat for you. It’s only when it gets out of control that you have to go on the offensive.
See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it. And the very act of living is a tide: at first it seems to make no difference at all, and then one day you look down and see how much pain has eroded.
A saguaro can fall for a snowman but where would they set up house?
There are no silver bullets in life; there’s just the long, messy climb out of the pit you’ve dug yourself.
This sort of obsessing would get him nowhere. He needed to move on, to get going, to look forward.
It’s like a telescope. My dad, no matter what he’s doing, zooms right in so he can’t see anything except what’s right there with him at that minute. My mom, she’s always on wide angle.
Until then she hadn’t considered that there was a trade off, that she might not fit anymore in places where she’d been comfortable.
These days it seemed like the words between them were there only to outline the silences.
She wondered how trees became petrified, if the same process worked with a human heart.
Disaster was an avalanche, gathering speed with such acceleration that you worried more about getting out of its path, not finding the pebble at its center.
Do you know what it’s like to give your whole self to a person, and your whole heart to boot, until you’ve got nothing left to give-and then realize that it still isn’t what they need?
I also mistakenly believed that the scariest stories came from imagination, not real life.
What is a parent, really, but somebody who picks up the things a child leaves behind – a trail made of stripped off clothing, orphaned shoes, tiny bright plastic game pieces, and nostalgia – and who hands back each of these when its needed?