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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?

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Path
Daddy
Assorted
Girl
Seeds
Twigs
Two
Snow
Misses
Littles
Bones
Kisses
Little
Kissing
Frogs
Stones
Frost
Girls
Beans
Missing
Paths

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Hey, Ocean Eyes,” my father said. “Where’d you go on us?
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A father's suspicion...' she began. Is as powerful as a mother's intuition.' ~pg 87, Ruana Singh and Jack Salmon
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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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As she stood in the darkened room and watched my sister and father, I knew one of things that heaven meant. I had a choice, and it was not to divide my family in my heart.
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I live in a world where two truths coexist: where both hell and hope lie in the palm of my hand
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Between a man and a woman there was always one person who was stronger than the other one. That doesn’t mean the weaker one doesn’t love the stronger.
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What I think was hardest for me to realize was that he had tried each time to stop himself. He had killed animals, taking lesser lives to keep from killing a child
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Our only kiss was like an accident- a beautiful gasoline rainbow.
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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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There wasn't a lot of bullshit in my heaven.
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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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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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Every day a question mark.
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Part of the creative process for me is an invitation for readers to follow their imagination.
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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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I like gardening - it's a place where I find myself when I need to lose myself.
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Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.
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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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He was beginning to understand: You were treated special and, later, something horrible would be told to you.
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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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