Quote

She was disappearing a little more each day, so thin, so frail, a wisp of smoke. One day she would surely vanish altogether, and there was no way to stop her.

Alice Hoffman

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Alice Hoffman
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: March 16
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
New York City
New York
Surely
Smoke
Wisp
Disappear
Wisps
Stop
Disappearing
Littles
Vanish
Little
Frail
Way
Altogether
Would
Thin

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Sally...can no longer think of love as a reality, or even as a possibility, however remote.
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It's not finding what's lost, it's understanding what you've found.
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The evening had turned sweet and blue.
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No one knows how to write a novel until it's been written
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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.
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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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This kind of knowing you can never tell to anyone. If you want us to survive, you cannot trust a soul'... 'Not for any reason on this earth. You can never tell.
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This day is going to be awful. It's the sort of day you wouldn't mind losing completely, even if it meant your life would be twenty-four hours shorter.
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I heard a sigh, as though the books were breathing. I felt that this was where I belonged. This was where I lived.
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Mothers always find ways to fit in the work - but then when you're working, you feel that you should be spending time with your children and then when you're with your children, you're thinking about working.
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How could I have been so stupid to ignore everything I’d had in my life? The color red alone was worth kingdoms.
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We stood and watched as God abandoned us, and then we did the best we could.
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That is the joy of reading fiction: when all is said and done, the novel belongs to the reader and his or her imagination.
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It was as though I had one map inside my head and it led to the man who was waiting for me. Someone who was alone - maybe even more alone - than I was.
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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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The nature of love had totally escaped her until now. She had thought that if you lost it, you could never get it back, like a stone thrown down a well. But it was like the water at the bottom of the well, there when you can't even see it, shifting in the dark.
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I think growing up is difficult and it's a process that I'm always interested in, with kids and adults, they are often on two different universes.
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All the characters in my books are imagined, but all have a bit of who I am in them - much like the characters in your dreams are all formed by who you are
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You cannot dispute the ridiculous. You cannot argue reasonably with evil.
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A red map isn't easy to follow. Any document made of blood and bones is tricky. Wrong turns are easily made, and there are often piles of stones in the road. A person has to disregard time and sorrow and all the damage done. If you follow, if you dare, the thread always leads to whomever or whatever you've forgotten.
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