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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
Alice Sebold
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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Stills
Lonely
Also
Green
Flickering
Still
Weak
Blew
Body
Room
Chair
Back
Rooms
Candle
Wanted
Leave
Chairs
Grace
Granted
Away
Warm
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If I shut my eyes, I believed, I would disappear. To make it through, I had to be present the whole time.
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I was like I was in science class: I was curious.
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I tried to take solace in Holiday, our dog. I missed him in a way I hadn't yet let myself miss my mother and father, my sister and brother. That way of missing would mean that I had accepted that I would never be with them again it might sound silly but I didn't believe it, would not believe it.
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The living deserve attention, too
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I had always been in love with him. I counted the lashes of each closed eye. He had been my almost, my might have been, and I did not want to leave him
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Then a little voice in him said, Let go, let go, let go
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Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.
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I dont think ignorance is a way that you gain distance on something.
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But I know I would not go out. I had taken this time to fall in love instead ā in love with the sort of helplessness I had not felt in death ā the helplessness of being alive, the dark bright pity of being human ā feeling as you went, groping in corners and opening your arms to light - all of it part of navigating the unknown.
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I would like to tell you that I am, and you will one day be, forever safe.
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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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Our only kiss was like an accident- a beautiful gasoline rainbow.
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Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.
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It's hard, because when you talk about process or your characters ruling your narrative, it sounds like you have no control, but obviously you're ultimately the author, so you do have control.
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The damage can fester under layers of time and change, and an ignorant, thoughtless remark can easily reopen the wound.
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He had been my almost. My might-have-been. I was afraid of what I wanted most - His kiss. Still, I collected kiss stories. -Susie Salmon
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It's very weird to succeed at thirty-nine years old and realize that in the midst of your failure, you were slowly building the life that you wanted anyway.
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I was the girl he had chosen to kiss. He wanted, somehow to set me free. He didn't want to burn my photo or toss it away, but he didn't want to look at me anymore, either.
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Like a medical procedure,' Ruth said. 'Intricate surgery is needed to patch up the planet.
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At fourteen, my sister sailed away from me into a place Iād never been. In the walls of my sex there was horror and blood, in the walls of hers there were windows.
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