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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
Stones
Frost
Girls
Beans
Missing
Paths
Path
Daddy
Assorted
Girl
Seeds
Twigs
Two
Snow
Misses
Littles
Bones
Kisses
Little
Kissing
Frogs

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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 wanted to be the moron of the family, because morons seemed to have more fun, more freedom and more personality.
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I was trying to prove to them and to myself that I was still who I had always been. I was beautiful, if fat. I was smart, if loud. I was good, if ruined.
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What did dead mean, Ray wondered. It meant lost, it meant frozen, it meant gone.
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How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?
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I wish you all a long and happy life
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These things, she felt, were not to be passed around like disingenuous party favors. She kept an honor code with her journals and her poems. 'Inside, inside,' she would whisper quietly to herself when she felt the urge to tell.
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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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The damage can fester under layers of time and change, and an ignorant, thoughtless remark can easily reopen the wound.
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Sometimes you cry, Susie, even when someone you love has been gone a long time.
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Learn a language of another country and then you can go to that country: a place where the problems of your family will not follow. A language they do not speak.
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Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.
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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 fell in love with you again While you were away - Jack Salmon
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Poison and medicine are often the same thing, given in different proportions
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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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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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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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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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