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It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.

Mary E. Pearson

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Mary E. Pearson
Age: 69
Born: 1955
Born: August 14
Teacher
Writer
SoCal
Mary E. Pearson
M.E. Pearson
Years
Fraction
Fractions
Shattered
Mold
Second
Takes
Dream
Take

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I don't want five hundred billion neural chips. I want guts.
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I wonder at the weight of a Sparrow.
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When you are perfect, is there anywhere else to go?
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Multiple closets for different needs. Overkill.
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A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten . . .
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We all have a dark place in us. It's what we do with it and the choice we make.
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I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)
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It's other people who make us wise, and I haven't known nearly enough.
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Percentages! Those are for economists, polls, and politicians. Percentages can't define your identity.
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Father says it will come in time. “Time heals,” he says. I don’t tell him that I don’t know what time is.
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Maybe we all have a dark place inside of us, a place where dark thoughts and darker dreams live, but it doesn't have to become who we are.
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There are all kinds of friends you make in life... But there's something different about someone who spreads their wings with you.
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I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white.
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I think that maybe forgiveness is like change - it comes in small steps. (256)
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...and time becomes a forgotten detail.
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When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.
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He believes me. But that is nothing new. He always did because I was a rule follower. I played by the rules he understood. But there are new rules now, ones he doesn't know yet. He'll learn. Just as I'm learning.
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I thought grandmothers had to like you. It’s a law or something.
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it is amazin, she thinks, how simple appearances can be created - a rush, a smile, a new coat of paint, a slow, calm voice, a hug, a new dress - a resolve to keep out questions and cling to secrets
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It's the unknown that I fear, the bites of memories that still have no connections.
Mary E. Pearson