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As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Stains
Bags
Oil
Brought
Realtors
Seeping
Prospective
Stain
Buyers

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Loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman.
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And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be.
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I live in a world where two truths coexist: where both hell and hope lie in the palm of my hand
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Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.
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Well, it's my voice, so it's more accessible that way, and there are also all sorts of things like plot and timelines that are already known entities, so for me, it's very different from writing fiction.
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I stared at her black hair. It was shiny like the promises in magazines.
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So there are cakes and pillows and colors galore, but underneath this more obvious patchwork quilt are places like a quiet room where you can go and hold someone's hand and not have to say anything.
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But she was waiting patiently. She no longer believed in talk. It never rescued anything. At seventy she had come to believe in time alone. ~pg 254
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There was one thing my murderer didn't understand he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.
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I left my mark on that man.
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I have always felt extremely weird. But I am very happy with my weirdnesses, and I want other people to be very happy with theirs.
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I think you only learn what kind of personality you have by committing to things.
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Please don't let Daddy die Susie, he whispered. I need him.
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But also I wanted him to go away and leave me be. I was granted one weak grace. Back in the room where the green chair was still warm from his body, I blew that lonely, flickering candle out
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I would do exactly what you are doing: I would talk to everyone I needed to, I would not tell too many people his name. When I was sure, she said, I would find a quiet way, and I would kill him.
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The relationship with the words someone uses is more intimate and integrated than just a quick read and a blurb can ever be. This intimacy - the words on the page being sent back and forth from engaged editor to open author - is unique in my experience.
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He took the hat from my mouth. ''Tell me you love me'', he said. Gently I did. The end came anyway
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Between a man and a woman there was always one person who was stronger than the other one. That doesn’t mean the weaker one doesn’t love the stronger.
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Before, they had never found themselves broken together. Usually, it was one needing the other but not both needing each other, and so there had been a way, by touching, to borrow from the stronger one's strength.
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Do you miss Susie? Because it was dark, because Ruth was facing away from her,because Ruth was almost a stranger, Lindsey said what she felt. More than anyone will ever know.
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