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Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Love
Bones
Cry
Gone
Someone
Sometimes
Even
Long
Time
Susie

More quotes by Alice Sebold

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Out loud I said I had two children. Silently I said three. I always felt like apologizing to her for that.
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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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As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.
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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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I don't do much public speaking. I did a lot of stuff for Bones, and then ended up having said yes to a lot of things that kept me on the road for a while for that, but then I pretty much stopped. I'm touring for this book, but when the tour is done, that'll be the end of it.
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At fourteen, my sister sailed away from me into a place I’d 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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She liked to imagine that when she passed, the world looked after her, but she also knew how anonymous she was. Except when she was at work, no one knew where she was at any time of day and no one waited for her. It was immaculate anonymity.
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Loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman.
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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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Please don't let Daddy die Susie, he whispered. I need 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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The damage can fester under layers of time and change, and an ignorant, thoughtless remark can easily reopen the wound.
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Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.
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Well, as my dad would say, it means she’s out of this shithole.
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I was in the air around him. I was in the cold mornings he had now. I was in the quiet time he spent alone. I was the girl he had chosen to kiss. He wanted, somehow to set me free. -Susie Salmon
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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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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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Then a little voice in him said, Let go, let go, let go
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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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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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