Quote

Unfinished business always comes back to haunt you, and a man who swears he'll love you forever isn't finished with you until he's done.

Alice Hoffman

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Alice Hoffman
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: March 16
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Forever
Business
Comes
Back
Swears
Done
Haunt
Always
Unfinished
Men
Swear
Love
Finished

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Once you know some things, you can't unknow them. It's a burden that can never be given away.
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I read Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, all of Shirley Jackson's books, which I loved.
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I wonder how a lioness will manage in a dovecote. Can you put away your teeth and claws?
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Our rest is formed by our waking life and our waking life is formed by our sorrows.
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What men yearn for they often destroy.
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What you dream, you can grow. Someone told me that, but I didn't believe it. I said I had nothing and that people with nothing are unable to dream. But I was wrong.
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I really feel like the gift is also the curse. It's always half-and-half. Whatever brings you the most joy will also probably bring you the most pain. Always a price to pay
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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.
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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.
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Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.
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Jill and I have known each other our whole lives. One house separates our houses but we act as if it doesn't exist. We met before we were born and we'll probably still know each other after we die. At least, that's the way we're planning it.
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The only people out at this hour were ones who couldn't sleep,those haunted by one thing or another:love thwarted, love lost, love thrown away. They were the sort of people who didn't want to be noticed, who wanted to slip through shadows, be alone with their despair.
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That was the way illness appeared in a house, in the corners, in between floorboards, on the hooks in the closet, along with the sweaters and coats.
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That's the way love sounds, my mother told me. You think it should feel like honey, but instead it cuts like a knife.
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Love ambushed you, it lay in wait, dormant for days or years. It was the red thread, the peach stone, the kiss, the forgiveness. It came after you, it escaped you, it was invisible, it was everything.
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I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for.
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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.
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It was the sort of beauty you feel so deeply it becomes contagious and somehow makes you feel beautiful too.
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The sky is already purple the first few stars have appeared, suddenly, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the edge of the world.
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That was the way love was, invisible, there whether or not you wanted to see it or admit to it.
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