Quote

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.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Anything
Quiet
Cakes
Like
Room
Underneath
Color
Pillow
Hold
Colors
Galore
Rooms
Cake
Quilt
Hand
Bones
Patchwork
Hands
Obvious
Quilts
Someone
Places
Pillows

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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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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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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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But she was waiting patiently. She no longer believed in talk. It never rescued anything. At seventy she had come to believe in time alone. ~pg 254
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I fell in love with you again While you were away - Jack Salmon
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When I was raped I lost my virginity and almost lost my life. I also discarded certain assumptions I had held about how the world worked and about how safe I was.
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I mean, if I went into my closet, I could find a previous draft and try to figure that out, but it takes a long time for me to find the voice to tell a story in. I was working from other points of view for a couple years there.
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Those who say they would rather fight to the death than be raped are fools. I would rather be raped a thousand times. You do what you have to.
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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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What did dead mean, Ray wondered. It meant lost, it meant frozen, it meant gone.
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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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Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.
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Our only kiss was like an accident- a beautiful gasoline rainbow.
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There’s no condition one adjusts to so quickly as a state of war.
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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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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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He would find his Susie,inside his young son. Give that love to the living.
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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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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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She no longer believed in talk. It never rescued anything.
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