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My grief was cold. It was nothing to share. It was nothing to speak about, nothing to feel.

Alice Hoffman

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Alice Hoffman
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: March 16
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Cold
Share
Speak
Nothing
Feel
Feels
Grief

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People want to ignore what they can't understand. They're looking for logic at any cost.
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No one knows you like a person with whom you've shared a childhood. No one will ever understand you in quite the same way.
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Hawthorne has given us a tradition that some people refer to as Yankee Magic Realism, and I do think there is a certain quality to the landscape that definitely leads into the dark woods.
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Love was like that, like a dream you didn't quite understand, one in which you didn't necessarily know what you were looking at until it was right in front of you.
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You have to choose the voice you are going to trust. You can't listen to everyone.
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I always quit at three when my kids come home from school so I feel pretty spoiled
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We had to survive to remember. Otherwise everything we were would disappear. Those people we loved would fade as though we'd never loved them, as if they'd never walked and talked and burned, forgetting them was the real evil. That was the hole of darkness.
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Ironically, now that my children are older and gone quite a bit, I find it harder to work when they're not around. Too much free time!
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They weren't true stories they were better than that.
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At midnight the wind in the tress can sound like the ocean. The moonlight can make a road appear as endless as the sea.
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You cannot dispute the ridiculous. You cannot argue reasonably with evil.
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Among men and women, those in love do not always announce themselves with declarations and vows. But they are the ones who weep when you're gone. Who miss you every single night, especially when the sky is so deep and beautiful, and the ground so very cold.
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We are only an instant, that's true. But we are eternal.
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There was the blue sky above her and all those many roses, the ones that gave off the scent of cloves in the rain and the ones that left a trace of lemon on your fingers, the ones that were the color of blood, and those that were as white as clouds. Each one was sweeter than the next and as red as gemstones.
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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
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Margaret thought of all she knew for certain, that day would always follow night that love was never wasted nor was it lost.
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Holding a tear back makes them drain upward, higher and higher, until one day your head just explodes and you're left with a stub of a neck and nothing more.
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Good fortune can take forever to get to you, but as it turns out, sorrow is as quick as a shot.
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Still, she knows one thing for certain: never judge a relationship unless you are the one wrapped up in its arms.
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Every time someone forgets, someone else disappears,' my brother wrote.
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