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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
Someone
Sometimes
Even
Long
Time
Susie
Love
Bones
Cry
Gone

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Like snowflakes,' Franny said,'none of them the same and yet each one, from where we stand, exactly like the one before
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He had a moment of clarity about how life should be lived: not as a child or as a woman. They were the two worst things to be.
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Your first kiss is destiny knocking.
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Hold still, my father would say, while I held the ship in the bottle and he burned away the strings he'd raised the mast with and set the clipper ship free on its blue putty sea. And I would wait for him, recognizing the tension of that moment when the world in the bottle depended, solely, on me.
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I have never been shy about listening to the input of others and weighing it seriously.
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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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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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The alcohol had the effect of making the black cloth blacker. This amused her she had noted in her journal: booze affects material as it does people.
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Loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman.
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How to Commit the Perfect Murder was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away.
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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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No one on the street thought anything of the downtown girl dressed in black who had paused in the middle of midtown foot traffic. In her art student camouflage she could walk the entire length of Manhattan and, if not blend in, be classified and therefore ignored.
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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.
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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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I missed her then but it was an odd sort of missing because by then, I knew the meaning of forever.
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Our only kiss was like an accident- a beautiful gasoline rainbow.
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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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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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Hey, Ocean Eyes,” my father said. “Where’d you go on us?
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One thing about failing repeatedly: If you're still doing it after you've failed that much, you really mean it.
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