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We're not punished for our sins, lad. We're punished by them.

Jennifer Donnelly

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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Lad
Punished
Sins
Sin

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I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.
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She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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Airports should all belong to the same country. The country of Crappacia. Or Bleakovania. Or Suckitan.
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I know it is a bad thing to break a promise, but I think now that it is a worse thing to let a promise break you.
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The world goes on, as stupid and brutal as tomorrow as it was today. And though I am shuddering with pain, and twisting with pain, and sobbing with pain, i laugh.Because I know now. I know the answer. I know the truth. Oh,dead man, you are dead wrong, I tell him.Can't you see? The world goes on, stupid and brutal, but I [do not. I do not.]
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She's got a big belt around her hips. It has a shiny buckle with PRADA on it, which is Italian for insecure.
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Sometimes, when you catch someone unaware at just the right time and in just the right light, you can catch sight of what they will be.
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You can't argue with the dead, no matter what you say, they always have the last word.
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For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.
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I think your vision gets better as you get older.
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But his words fall away. He looks confused. He looks flustered and sorry. Like you do when you run up to someone you think you know and take her arm and she turns around and you were wrong.
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Only the hopeless love God.
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Turn away. From the darkness, the madness, the pain. Open your eyes and look at the light.
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The greenest of pastures are right here on earth.
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He loves the sparkling fountains and their cascades and says the strangest things as he watches them. they look like stars breaking. Or, They look like Mama's diamonds. Or, They look like all the souls in heaven.
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There was a basket at her feet. She reached into it and lifted out the head of a young woman, a marquise. She wore Bourbon white to her death, but wears the tricolor now - white cheeks, blue lips, red dripping from her neck. Long live the revolution.
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Bravery is feeling fear but doing the thing anyway.
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Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.
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There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.
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There is an advantage to be found in most everything that happens to you, even if it is not immediately apparent.
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