Quote

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.

Jennifer Donnelly

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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Forget
Hands
Fingertips
Bleed
Doe
Nail
Play
Rip
Heart
Nails
Strings
Hurt

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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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For the first time, I saw what was in his heart, and I wondered if he might ever want to look deep enough to see mine.
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Only the hopeless love God.
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One expects decent people to stand up for the good of all. Decent people shut their doors and hide behind them as decent people do. Massacres could never happen if it weren't for decent people.
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I play until my fingers are blue and stiff from the cold, and then I keep on playing. Until I'm lost in the music. Until I am the music--notes and chords, the melody and harmony. It hurts, but it's okay because when I'm the music, I'm not me. Not sad. Not afraid. Not desperate. Not guilty.
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A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.
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We're not punished for our sins, lad. We're punished by them.
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Happiness was useless to me. It was heartache that filled my purse. What happy man has need of Shakespeare?
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He pressed himself into me and kissed my neck, and it was as if everything strong and solid inside me, heart and bones and muscle and gut, softened and melted from the heat of him.
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It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.
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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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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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Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?
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History is a Rorschach test, people. What you see when you look at it tells you as much about yourself as it does about the past.
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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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Writers are damned liars. Every single one of them.
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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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I struggled for a long time to get anything published.
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For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient.
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Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either
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