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Murder had a blood red door on the other side of which was everything unimaginable to everyone.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Blood
Sides
Everyone
Unimaginable
Everything
Red
Murder
Door
Doors
Side

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There’s no condition one adjusts to so quickly as a state of war.
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Like a medical procedure,' Ruth said. 'Intricate surgery is needed to patch up the planet.
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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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Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.
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Depending on where I am in the process, sometimes I have a page count and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I have an hour count sometimes I'm just happy to string a few words together. I do keep pretty rigorous hours, because otherwise you never get anything done.
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Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.
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Please don't let Daddy die Susie, he whispered. I need him.
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Part of the creative process for me is an invitation for readers to follow their imagination.
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The earth has a mouth?” Buckley asked. A big round mouth but with no lips,” my father said. Jack,” my mother said, laughing, “stop it. Do you know I caught him outside growling at the snapdragons?
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I was like I was in science class: I was curious.
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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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What did dead mean, Ray wondered. It meant lost, it meant frozen, it meant gone.
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Our only kiss was like an accident- a beautiful gasoline rainbow.
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You save yourself or you remain unsaved.
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Stones and bones snow and frost seeds and beans and polliwogs. Paths and twigs, assorted kisses, We all know who Daddy misses! His two little frogs of girls, that’s who. They know where they are, do you, do you?
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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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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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If I had but an hour of love,if that be all that is given me,an hour of love upon this earth,I would give my love to thee.
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To transform experience and thought into language and narrative - that is beautiful even if that beauty is in brokenness.
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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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