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The shadow of years was not as big on his small body. He knew I was away . But when people left they always came back.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Left
Away
Body
Back
Shadow
Years
Knew
Always
Small
People
Came
Bigs

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People grow up by living.
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Learn a language of another country and then you can go to that country: a place where the problems of your family will not follow. A language they do not speak.
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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 watched my brother and my father. The truth was very different from what we learned in school. The truth was the line between the living and the dead could be, it seemed, murky and blurred.
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Last night it had been my father who had finally said it: She’s never coming home. A clear and easy piece of truth that everyone who had ever known me had accepted. But he needed to say it, and she needed to hear him say it.
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Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun it cannot be contained.
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I'm fine with whatever comes my way, and whatever doesn't come my way I'm fine with too. I have a very laissez-faire attitude with the whole thing.
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At the tips of the feathers there is air and at their base: blood. I hold up bones I wish like broken glass they could court light....still I try to place these pieces back together, to set them firm, to make murdered girls live again.
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Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.
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Your first kiss is destiny knocking.
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You look invincible,' my mother said one night. I loved these times, when we seemed to feel the same thing. I turned to her, wrapped in my thin gown, and said: I am.
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My name is Salmon, like the fish first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.
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I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.
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When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things, Franny said. What about the dead? I asked. Where do we go?
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There was our father, the heart we knew held all of us. Held us heavily and desperately, the doors of his heart opening and closing with the rapidity of stops on an instrument, the quiet felt closures, the ghostly fingering, practice and practice and then, incredibly, sound and melody and warmth.
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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 forgive you, I said. I said what I had to. I would die by pieces to save myself from real death.
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I like gardening - it's a place where I find myself when I need to lose myself.
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She sat in her room on the couch my parents had given up on and worked on hardening herself. Take deep breaths and hold them. Try to stay still for longer and longer periods of time. Make yourself small and like a stone. Curl the edges of yourself up and fold them under where no one can see. ~pg 29, Susie's sister Lindsey dealing with grief.
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Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.
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