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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.

Alice Sebold

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Alice Sebold
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: September 6
Novelist
Writer
Madison
Wisconsin
Always
Like
Silently
Apologizing
Loud
Felt
Three
Two
Children

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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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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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If I had but an hour of love,if that be all that is given me,an hour of love upon this earth,I would give my love to thee.
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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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Who would have thought something that happened that long ago could have such power?
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Before, they had never found themselves broken together. Usually, it was one needing the other but not both needing each other, and so there had been a way, by touching, to borrow from the stronger one's strength.
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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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And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be.
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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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When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things, Franny said. What about the dead? I asked. Where do we go?
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There’s no condition one adjusts to so quickly as a state of war.
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Loss could be used as a measure of beauty in a woman.
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Heaven is comfort, but it's still not living.
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I fell in love with you again While you were away - Jack Salmon
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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.
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Tess was my first experience of a woman who had inhabited her weirdness, moved into the areas of herself that made her distinct from those around her, and learned how to display them proudly.
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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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She no longer believed in talk. It never rescued anything.
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Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain.
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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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